I Need a Fucking Soundtrack

i figured out i can do whatever i want here. this is my private space. this is my only private space. fuck. shit. dick. whore. bitch. cock. balls. ass. bitch. dong. wang.i can do whatever the hell i want here. all these words seem so much more beautiful and perfect set to music. songs that no one will ever get or hear. so again its so senseless. whats the point. of writing this out. its all fucked up. i'm not here to listen to people console me. i don't give ia fuck. i should. i write here to express myself. to bleed. sometimes i feel like not letting people comment on my garbage, but like veryone else, i'm a curious fuck. i've decided i will die by explosion. all of this will fall through. a dream full of dark corners and back alleys full of mexican gangsters waiting to shank any motherfucking essay that fronts.i'm almost in florida. and for the first time in my life i'm gonna be sleeping in a town that i have no actualy clue what its name is. like i don't know what fucking state i'm in. i slept all day. and now we stopped to sleep. so who knows. who cares. i'm lost. in a few ways. in too many. it falls through. it lets go. it breaks you. it thinks so. even if you think you've learned you'll do it over again. i don't want to have that. i don't want to listen. i'm not gonna let comments go up here anymore. that pisses me off. im not going to fashion my mind to a 'general public' this is the one place where 'the general public' can go fuck themselves. HA. yes. i'm alone right now. too far from home right now. i need a friend right now. i need a hand right now.