I hated her. I hated her because I wanted her. I wanted nothing but to have her wrapped around my member in all various ways and I couldn't shake the image from my mind and it destroyed whatever stability I had left.

And another lapse of nonsensical word-shittery takes place and the intrawebs become clogged with the dreck of my grey matter. Pubes in the drain. Self-consciousness takes the front seat and I feel the world staring at my nude shame on this web-stage. Drivel, drivel, yet again. A lifetime of perfecting the art of self-loathing enables you to craft monstrous works of imploding art. "See, the imploding man, figure one." Combustible, inherently destructible, Dan. The frail framework of a human.

And I drift onto another small island of self-hateful soothing.

What is there for me to say. I say nothing of use. Time to die.