The simplest answer is always the one that makes the most sense, so it would make no sense for two similar injuries to come from two separate accidents. It would make no sense to sink down into the sewage of the universe without a simpler purpose.
Maybe it just makes more sense if you leave out the big things. It just makes more sense to do things slowly

and to not make any choices
that might impact big things.
My head is spinning, I am

falling through a black hole, down into infinity. Of nothingness. Some things are easier than others. Some days are easier than others but at a certain point, every new excitement will provide diminishing returns

so it just makes more sense
to keep a bit of everything
laying around.

Can you really say for sure that anything ever changes? It’s healthy to be accepting but it’s also good to be a healthy skeptic.

(I’ve seen too many things)
[that remind me of serial killings]

You can only do so many things in a day. That’s just the way that things are nowadays. And if you want any more than that, it’ll cost you a great many things.

Tiny’s here, I gotta go.

Distractions are just a fact of life. Distractions help waste time in order to pass the time until the next hit.

There is a game of cat and mouse playing out before my eyes. I found that, in such moments, a cage can be a saving grace, where, in other times, it would be unbearable.

People argue all the time.
There’s nothing strange about that.
Just as long as all the blows come
from the top down.

I still see shadows everywhere I look.
It just makes more sense to chalk one up to bad eyesight.

My lips are dry and I am parched. The same melody repeats over and over again in my head, out of my phone. There are no thoughts of my own that I can write down, no emotions I can decipher.
The course of life terrifies me.

Everything can be a choice, any sound can eventually become noise. That fact is still something I have to learn. Sometimes fear is just fear. Everyone dies.
Everyone dies alone.

I don’t want to be alone.

A lot of time has passed since 1986.
I now have eighteeneighteeneighteen kids.

Why does nutrition matter anyway? Nothing’s real.

Things look bleak outside my window so I don’t go outside. But things are also bleak in here so I don’t feel all that comfortable staying here. I sure am in a pickle now.

One more spoonful and you’ll get your vitamin A needs for the day.

I’m thinking about old things today because old things keep finding their way back into my life.

An empty husk of a man, reduced to drinking the night away, a product of a figment of an imagination.

“So many of us struggle with the drink,” a writer told me once, so I started drinking.

I still struggle with the way it tastes, like a wet, lukewarm dick forcing its way into your throat, no matter how cold it might be. Not that I would know what that’s like, or how a dick can be lukewarm.

Why does everything always
either fade in or fade out?
What the fuck happened
to music?

You constantly ask yourself: How much worse could it get? Well I hate to tell you, but you haven’t seen a thing yet.

You constantly ask yourself: Am I somebody else? but the birthmarks that you have say that nothing’s changed.

Everything decays over time. You just happened to decay faster than the norm, and there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, if more people were like you, the world might be a better place. So go to sleep child. There’s no reason to stay up all night, fearful of the time you don’t have ticking away. You can’t see clearly in the dark anyway.

A couple of small words can turn a whole day around.

It must be so difficult, teetering on the edge. Never quite being able to do one thing or the other. A dandelion floating around

You are something
nobody wants.

at the mercy of the breeze. Constantly seconds away from being swept away again. Just to end up anywhere, further from where you began.

What can anyone do with you
if, after two days alone,
they come back to find you dead?

We are the people who have nothing, because they came and took it all away. We are the people who refuse to contribute to society until society stops fucking us. We are the people who just wanted a place to belong, and they wouldn’t even give us that. We are the people who wanted to create something beautiful, but were told to get back in the line and continue shoveling ourselves under dirt. We are the people who have nothing.

For now.

The gentle slope up is the best part of the roller coaster. From the first drop onward, you will never again reach those heights. Never again feel so calm or grounded. Never again so stable. From the next moment onward, existence will be an unending cycle of breathtaking highs and devastating lows. Say goodbye to all your other plans.

Welcome to the ride.