Some days I've just had enough of this great, retarded, raving insane world.
A great flow of black bile with claws just swells from somewhere within and I want to either burn the world to cinders or die weeping in a river of tears for the beauty raped and plundered for fake golden dust.
I just hate feeling like this. It does neither me, nor anyone else any good.
But I do. Sometimes.
I'm glad I'm not God.