terrible moan of the jilted
And WHAT THE FUCK, then, what the fucking fuck. And why the fuck
should this be surprising? And why the fuck doesn't that bitch want
me? What the fuck is that bitch's problem? What the fuck is my
problem, actually? Why are the flowers of my wonderful garden
choking around my stupid neck? What is this fucking nonsense
anyway? Where is the order, pattern, perfection that I was
promised when I was born? Where is the strange beauty of the big-
brained beast, the wonderful symmetry of the universe, the
Hollywood happy ending, the return to the tonic note after
multitudinous wild deviations? What the fuck is the matter with this
place, this universe I've found myself in? Does everything always
have to suck so fucking bad?
Howl, vexation of love!
Fucking howl, howl, howl, howl, howl, howl!
Antediluvian lament, older than a million copulating trees and
orgasmic archaic brain segments leading to lusty emotional
attachments seething through one's life like snakes, breathing
power and passion and pain into otherwise repetitive days, causing
one's skin to stand up and fucking shriek, sing, yell, moan, howl,