should I stay or should I go
I was trying to study this morning, my little free text on the Medici, and I didn't really succeed at sitting down and taking notes, part age, part I ought to just give up and let Alphabet drill a hole in my skull and plant its microchip, and now part of my left molar is rotting away. We all lose, eventually, but I am not certain why I need to mortify myself to the consistency of ground sand. There is this ontological state, with all my emotional pain, and there is cessation. Part of existence lies in seeking relief from it, and yet most of us do not want to die, until the agony of clinging becomes too much, and I fear my end, this morning, because the wounds tearing at me beneath my breast are like a lash, because I hate black women, black culture, and everything about section 202, the Presbyterian hypocrisy. Engaging in demolition against the property would provide me with a fleeting, transitory glee, masking more pain, that's all, I'd still hate, as an active, living verb, and I'll lose to it; don't we all, not even realizing I was part of a class action suit against ATT for its sales tax. I never signed onto that, and yet liberals insist they know what's best for me, and I am sure team Toomey needs such a snarling animal. I was going to go uptown today, but if I'm chomping at the muzzle without cause?
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