All The Shitty Stuff People

What Happened To The World Was Gradual. I've Forgotten What It Actually Was, But I Have Faint, Fetal Memories Of What It Was Like. A Smoldering Dread That Never Really Caught Fire Till There Wasn't Much Left To Burn. Each Sequential Step Surprised Us. Then One Day We Woke Up, And Everything Was Gone.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes.

Peel Off These Dusty Wool Blankets Of Apathy And Antipathy And Cynical Desiccation. I Want Life In All Its Stupid Sticky Rawness.

In My Mind I Am Eloquent; I Can Climb Intricate Scaffolds Of Words To Reach The Highest Cathedral Ceilings And Paint My Thoughts. But When I Open My Mouth, Everything Collapses.

My Friend "m" Says The Irony Of Being A Zombie Is That Everything Is Funny, But You Can't Smile, Because Your Lips Have Rotted Off.