miketysonpraise

The dream slowly slipped past my eyes years of dreaming of thinking and of the   same melancholy outcome evertime.  I was alone. In my cell. They picked me up they fucking found me they fucking got me. They slipped their pig noses somewhere that it didn’t belong, I couldn’t let them fuck me like that. It started about four years ago, that was when I met Joe. That motherfucker dragged my ass in this shit.  It was an ordinary fucking day not unlike the day before, you know ordinary shit.  I was talking to Joe about his sister and some shit she had dug herself into she was big into that cocaine shit. You know lots of that shit she was an ordinary junkie I guess. Not much special about her average tits average hips and a fucked up face starined with scars and wrinkled like an old abused dog, ready to die, waiting for something better knowing it will never come but theirs something that makes that dog get up on its fucking feet for another fucking day, instinct I guess, some got it more than others you can see that everyday. Jumping concrete bloody plump fat laying on the street and we all just walk bye and laugh. You see these motherfuckers everyday everyage pills needles fancy clothes new dress 600 dollars a hope someone new will pick them up and love them use them make them feel special wanted even if for just one night. There is no Happy ending just the cement. I told him he should really just clean that bitch up or just fucking shoot her do her and everyone else a favor. Living for the next hit living for the next high if I was ever like that a useless fucking pig living from orgasm to orgasm douseing the pain of the your hopless life that’s no kind of way to live I’d rather be food for the fucking pigs. He wasn’t much of a man. A slob but not in the way he kept himself and his home but in his thoughts and actions. He acted as if he was a second rate machine replaced  by a new top of the line high end machine.  Everything was offbeat and unkind. Smoking cigarette after cigarette. Not much of a conversationalist. You could only get a few words out that ingratful piece of shit.  I was doing a job for him some easy shit –I was to rob some junkie who owed joe some money and if in the heat of the moment I felt like killing the shit I would. He was a nice old man owned his own bussines Lowelys family Grill. And A fucking family man he was. When he was in some shit he whored off his 13 year old daughter to old horny business men who fucked the brains outta her. Cum all over her face in her pussy her hair her ear.  On occasion he would get together a lot of em and theyed all take a turn. He sold her Clit on ebay after circumciseing her with a rock. He got like thirty bucks from some sicko from new york a cop I think. The shit was this time They were waiting for Joe I guess had been picked up by the police on a minor drug charge told them I put him up to it told him I was going to fuck this guy up. The police shit the biggest whores in all of fucking California. The icing of the gutters painting the walls with shit judges and officers of authority no better than those they lock up. There easiy money and power corrupts. I walked to his door with my 45. and a Cop opened the door and beat my ass.  No proof or reason just wanted a fight then he checked me for weapons said it was self defense.  I will get up to fucking 45 years in jail for attempted murder and an unlicesced weapon. And shit gets better under three strikes law I get even more fucking time.  Dreams are great but that’s all they ever are Shade in your dreams for the dreamless they die. That’s all there is man. Lifes cheaper than ever these days no one has any self respect. I would rather die a bird than live as a pig. I knew one way to sweet happy couch pussy saugsage jalepenos and All the fucking painkillers I wanted. I sat in the room as they examined me humiliated me laughed at my clothes. They poked my dick with knifes and cigarettes  laughed at the picture of my mother in my wallet. Pigs have no idea of beauty they only know plastic and fake love fancy clothes and makeup to rape the beauty and squeeze the blood and cum out. My mind was bleeding that’s all I can think. That’s  all I can remember . Whats your name. I remember replying my name is a tool I am tired of biegn used. Jab stomach ache I can no longer feel the pain. Sickness was something I was good at I could spot sickness. They all have it that fake sinceir smile that plastic pastel robot grin that laugh like burning coals and the insecurity.
Politicans and whores they have it. Most people now have it I have it. I sunk a bullet in his head he left his gun on the table arragont wanted to test me didn’t think I had the balls. In seconds I will be dead everthing  seems so slow down but not really his partner points a gun at my face smiling laughing enjoying the kill he laughs everytime bullet enters brain, life is death to him. It all comes so easy when one lacks a brain. When one lacks the time to care. Blood enters wall now I know there is no happy land of ladefuckingda after death I don’t want it to be to  that would be too fucking easy. They are cows grazing intoxicated by the pretty words and pretty pictures dying to belive anything grazing and chewing on their religon and Drugs. Distractions,  Oh what a marvelous beautiful place what a marvelous shit stain.

Jacques escaped from the cupboard lighting a Newport and taking a breeze, the locks on the cupboard were damaged from years of abuse. It was his place to escape when he heard the noises. The noises were of course the sound of his parents. Moments of passion, moments of contempt, moments of violence he could no longer tell them apart. He only knew he could not deal with them, he could never face them. He hid and escaped fleeing within himself telling himself to disappear to transport his body somewhere new and wonderful, someplace without people. His place of hiding had often been far from a haven. Empty Newport packs scrawled on the floor the banging on the door and the screaming for him to come out with a threat of violence. The hinge had been removed but it remained to him his only place of safety. He walked up the stairs and went to his family’s living room. The sight made him chuckle his mother had no face and his father lay in a provocative pose with a hack-sawed neck. He took his fathers wallet and never returned to the house. He decided to leave his rural area and journey to Paris. He walked past the pigs and cows barefoot he had a long walk. He took his walking seriously never stopping unless it was to go to the bathroom or to find food. He regarded himself as Jacques Piccard exploring the challengers deep. As he walked he met people of all kinds interesting people who wanted to varnish him or steal the nothing he had. He walked for months slowly his pace gradually but never settling down in any town. He walked until his interest of city life needed to be satisfied. He stopped in a big city and decided to wander its depths. His torn and fragile look was sympathetic with the people of the inn and he was given free room. He was uninterested in most people he met he found them uninteresting. He could identify only with the men at the taverns who spoke only of dreams and the wonders and how they would all soon be theirs, but they never did reach there goals and only drank and talked and become a bore. He then met a women of interest. She worked and traveled and cared nothing for her body for her mind but only for the experience and the adventure, she never had a thought on morality. She seduced him and took him under her wing despite the scorn of others. They left the village she could not work for long in one place without gaining a terrible reputation that lost her all her customers. She was a traveling prostitute. She showed him the joy of living and the animosity and terror of life. She took him dancing and saw the terrible hopeless lust of man and his unending desire. The women took him to a friend’s house. She told him it was he who had told her the way to take and capture a mans heart. He was in some way a pimp and a pusher of a sort. He had many other women of the same sort who worked within his city she was the only one to travel and spread his business. She loved him she told him and he watched as he beat her and yelled and screamed at her and he desired to be in his cupboard. But she ate away at his abuse and loved it and did nothing she let him use here rob her and tear her apart and then leave her drugged and torn. She told Jacques it was all in good fun and it was all her fault. After that day Jacques despised her. The only person he had ever respected or desired-found interesting was just as weak and torn as everyone. He could not speak with her. The weakness in her tore him into pieces. He then plotted to kill the only person he had ever thought of loving. He denied her her humanity. It was as though he was smothering a dog weak frayed and confused. No attachment or love as though he was shooting a deer for venison necessary for his own survival. Denial of all his own human weakness grew in his head. He knew what he needed, and he waked on an on, why Paris and, what he would do once he was there never was thought by him only the majestic city he imagined, a mystic Olympian city of otherworldliness a place realities futility could never reach. He walked and refused himself of his humanly limitations he walked and walked until his feet failed him and he used his hands to gain as much distance as he could never giving up. He crawled until his eyes failed him and until only his body continued out of habit. He continued until his breath ceased and until his arms and legs would never be moved by his force or will until his brain could never have another thought.