My Mission changed the world! This is the second little piggie. This one, you see, calls for wiping everything out. Sometimes from malice, but others from preservation. Every day is a pummeling of my soul. And days longer…
I’m lost, awash with pain, suffering, and sorrow. I am a victim of my mind, for I am always up in it, lost. Just lost, perhaps trapped. I am trapped in this real world, really-real world.
I’d have called her that night and asked her where I was going because I was lost, and it was #fd017a, and I felt platypus, with a side of fucking horrible knee pain.
Nothing hurt like those BLEEPS. The pain, fuck. It scrambles my brain with the strife of not being able to sleep because of it, yet knowing the pain is often a symptom.
When I got her voicemail, I mumbled something incoherent about the mission. The second little piggie, well, they were incapable of forming a cogent sentence, just mumbling like a dork.
Yes, this is a continuation to All for none, yeah, none for all |2022 and The Dreams, The Disingenuous & The Mission |2022.
My Mission Saved the World. I am plain crazy, fuzzy in my mind that is fragmented, shattered, inexplicably torn to shreds.
Now, many microns later, I find myself confused, a victim of sleeping pills, alcoholism, something I can’t seem to recall, and, uh, that thing.
You know, that thing at that place with those people and that stuff, you know what I’m talking about…? I think I may have uttered that in the voicemail I left.
