making boxes and stuffing counter pose

When I do something and it hurts my sense of time, this fills my glorified sense with a will power that is indestructable and dangerous. When I do the same task over and over within minutes, then those minutes turn into hours and then days, when I do the same thing every day. This small task maybe takes a few seconds to complete and compile that into a week, its like saying the same mantra or word, over and over for hours and then days in a ritual with a pentacle drawn on my spine, not my spleen, on Baudlieres spleen. This is a burning like a witches cross. I am indestructible and I can fuck like Apollo the cauldron has been brewed and the stew is finished and my sorcery appendage is on fire and my eyes are steel iron bronze and black. I don't even listen to sounds around me about the stupid conversations that people have that revolve around what they want. The universe doesn't care about what you want only what you have and what do you have for the universe, see even my new display is repetitive. I have been repeating again and again until I've discovered which shoes are good for standing all day in the same place and which shoes suck my fat toe. I had one shoe that felt like it had a little sliver that drilled itself into the soft center of my foot and its always the left foot. My body feels erect and I know if I went out right now women would sense me. How is it I don't even care and the whole time I would have these out-of-body experiences where my mind would go off into a interesting room and I would answer questions about us to a machine. This machine is beyond any scope. This machine is completing a study about us and I gave it all the information it ever wanted. Thats how vilified I feel right now because I believe that this machine has assassinated God. Its why christians are ridiculous and women are liberated. I didn't even have to take drugs on my half hour lunch break, that includes the day that I worked twelve hours strait. My strength is unmatched by you, thats how I feel. In fact if I kissed you, my lips would probably strangle you. Its beautiful to be mad but this will wear off, all it takes is a moment in front of the television set and erased. A hit off a pipe, a drink with a friend, a conversation with a idiot, a diner at a restraunt because we are contagious in our conversations that dispells anything extraordinary. I'm better off driving writing or walking out into the wilderness until its up and then getting my knickers on with some worthless human and come back as me the same old dumbass. No wonder I tried to escape you in my car, driving all over the west searching for a rave or a open mic. or a blank sheet of desert. I'm better off a zombie with the raven and coyote but my pocket of silence is no good anywhere. Nobody gets out alive, so I might as well do it with someone and forget everything.