I want some goddamn heroin. Or a vagina. Of my own. I mean, in place of my penis. But only if I had perfect teeth. In my mouth, I mean. And hair. On my head. On top of my head.
This is going nowhere.
It’s strange how my mind is only blank when I actually try to use it. Maybe if I could smoke a cigarette while I type. It always helped while playing pool. I’ll never be able to write a book.
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