i torture myself

not with ropes or chains

or high heeled ladies in catsuits

and LED lit ears

spiked boots and gloomy music

in a dungeon

far below the earths surface

as they insult me with lies and fantasys

where i did this or that

and now i must be punished

starting with this

and then that.

sooooo much of this, by the way. so much. omg. like woah.

and then i have to clean up.


you can always tell how easy a man has it by how soft his hands are.

how few calluses, scratches, divots, tears.


the affluent have scars, just not on their hands.

but i dont torture myself that way either.

i listen to news stations and political shows all day

and all night.

waiting for something juicy to come from the droning and speculation

and history.

but it rarely does.

still, i wait.