The radio is pure schitzo garbage and now the voices in my head grow louder for Katie, as she perished 2 moons ago. I remember her soft, delicate hand rubbing along my neck and cheek, as I attempted to sleep on the Jizz-filled mattress Bruno (The Sacha Baron Cohen one) had left me the night before. I felt shameful and egregious sexual pleasure, as her giant alien-like eyes penetrated my exhausted soul. "I've always cared for you since I succed you off under the football bleachers, nom sayin". I instinctively unflexed my entire body, as my being went into a total moment of temporary ecstasy. My eyes, enshrouded by deathly dark circles of distinctive desperation, pierces valiantly into her strident, slutty, shameful soul. Ssssseathing sumptuously in snake juice, severing senile serventations of slippery slandering. Her slender stroke silently slithered saliently up my arm. My malnourished arm. Butt weight, she was only a moment ago applying her gentle feminine force around my invouluntarily shaking jawline. I just wanted to grasp her tender soul, not in any sensual way, just in the way you want to feel alive once again. Someone that breaks all your usual routines of sadness. Drinking, smoking, watching corn in my living room, that due to spacing constraints also serves as a bedroom, kitchen, and of course dining room. The last notification I received that wasn't some blood-succing company like UberEats, Snapchat or, surprisingly, google news articles about Drake fingering A Minor on the Top Floor of Gotham's finest crack den. My soul was withering away without my phone. I needed to check my notifications, scroll through some garbage, listen to some ♥♥♥♥, text anyone who's bothered by my nonsense.

Yeah, this might be my meltdown Post-Kanye Meltdown. I enjoy all his work. hey mama, aHHHHH!! I WANNA SCREAM SO LOUD FOR YOU