death

you expell rants that make you actually sound like a parrot lousily parroting some theorists and factists that offered sad truths about life and the lack of it. by life it's a given that gayness is a given fact. so you spew all that you've heard from oprah's guests whose names you can't remember now. and you underscore what you've read from writers whose names sounded jewish so you have the difficulty of pronouncing them. and you do this as if you will never see the sun three hours later. and--with feelings--you stress, you puncuate. you are the center of the universe. and you are getting undivided attention. you know that for you to persuade them, you must persuade yourself first. and the world crumbles and you are a witness to this. just like how your blinding eyes are witnesses to the death of yet another stick of marlboro. you are frustrated because your parroting is nearing its death. because they dismiss your parroting of the theorists and factists as "that's only your opinion."