Mood Surgery

Note to self: shut the fuck up.
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My heart
Affixed to the floor in crystal shards
Has never been held to you
Cut yr fingers open if you will. I am glue.
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Nothing has balls like a word that ends in "c." I think I've discovered a hidden code in the English language. Seriously, try it.
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A heavy pile of general merchandise fell on my face tonight. My glasses frames split wide open, and one of the lenses cracked neatly, surgically, mockingly in two. Generally speaking, I don't lead a violent lifestyle. I don't get in fights. I stay away from mosh pits. I'm pretty fucking sedentary. Somehow still I still manage to destroy like a pair of glasses a year. A guy as visually-impaired as me should have a backup pair, but glasses aren't exactly cheap, y'know? Maybe I should just get a fucking pair of safety goggles and have prescription lenses put in them.

I'm basically a fucking cripple right now.
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Professor Jerk has an ear infection. His karma's moving like an intervention.
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