What do I say today? I'm dying, and yet I'm npt smoking. Something has changed. God's still a doodlebopper, but He lets me cop a feel once and a while. I got nothing! I don't have any speak-thingies! I just spit my shit and I have words apparently? This is just what you can do when you've done it all; have nothing and still produce something. I am complete. I am completely apart. I am rock solid, I will sock you in the mouth. I don't need anything and the words come. I can complete in dogshit number nine when you need to be in triforce six just to get an erection. God warns me I'm going to prison. A kumquat tells me to goon. I'm gunna. What choice do I have. "Because I choose to." You got dick over a Benadryl stimfap session. You have robot number bukkake dog and that IS a number, and it aligns with me 26% of the time and this is the best I can hope for. God says call my dad. Retard won't pick up. No one loves me. I'm dogshit. Rapedog millionaire. Burn the flesh. Salt the wounds. I don't like killing cockroaches. They piss me tf off. Like, get tf out dude. Why are you here? There was no food the time he wasn't here. Why were you here? Bullshit. Nature is lying to me. This species couldn't exist. It would be eradicated. God is lying. The bitch. I'll fuck God's ass with my own ass, and I typed all of this without looking at the keyboard 9n my phone. Is that a skill? Yes. I am skilled. Skill pilled. Don't know what the skill is. Rocunding my own ass. More than Christ. Chinese has a booger paste. That's whst God's about.