Ventilation

Mother fucking twat farting god damned pusillanimous flatulent piece of mule shit! I want to hit things with bats. I want to scream until I can't make a noise. I want to run in one direction till I collapse. Lots of anger. With myself, with the world, with fate and circumstance and wyrd and whatever. I feel like Hamlet's father. Alone, empty, forgotten, tormented, and helpless to do anything but moan and rage.

Unless of course Hamlet's father was really a demon who wanted to damn him, in which case I'm not very much like that.

I'm so fucking stupid I could eat my own head.