terrible moan of the jilted

ben goertzel

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, 
howl, howl!