We are all carbon.

So why the fuck do you think you are special? You aren't. You husband is going to fuck the secratary. Your Uncle is going to rape you. The government is going to take your money even if you can't feed your kids. If you don't have their currency you get to freeze on the street. If you don't go to church, you are going to burn in hell. All these cruelties aren't vendettas against you. Just no one cares about you. You may feel the world is against you. it isn't. It just isn't for you. You are on your own. I don't think that is a bad thing. Just look at yourself and know how fucking unreliable we are. You have been just as unreliable as anyone else. You aren't special. You have a gucci handbag. I have an opinion. But that gold studded leather is better? No I don't think so. I think you are so full of shit that you need to define yourself with everything but yourself. Because the devil is in you like everyone else.

Your heels are the sound of power? Of stature? Ha! I saw a hooker with them three times down madison ave. One of them had a dick. You look like you need one. That briefcase is your world. It doesn't hold your secrets because they are too heavy. That ten year old boy from polynesia had one tight asshole. But that isn't on your fucking financial statements or market projections. Your shame is so easily disguised. But I know. You are all filthy garbage. You are an alcoholic just to deal with a family that despises you. Your wife won't fuck you unless she is tranqued up with valium. Your kids talk to you for money. Even they see through your shit. Just like I do. You think life is painful. You should get a grip of what you inject into this sickness called humanity. Perpetual growth of a failing system. Your faith is shaken with nothing but a mint page. Numbers in an account. That corner office where you can make a call to the mistress on the company bill. The company don't care.

Fuck your wife. She is fucking your friend anyway. Snorting coke off his friends balls thinking that you could never be this much fun. You look in the mirror and know it is true. That is why you gutted your kid with her cheese knife you guys got for your fifteen year anniversary. Maybe now she will think you are fun. Or at least pay attention. Who knew the liquid from a human was so warm and comforting. A regular upper class psycho you have become. But you relish the world now being shattered. The world knowing who you are. No more lies. Nothing left to hide. She has come in. Her scream tells him all he needs to know before he uses the oven door as a battering ram for her skull. No more valium induced lame assed sex. No more nine to five. No more money. No more control. He has now become a social liability. He will make the news. The world knowing that he can never be what they thought he was. The shock. The realization of humanity in all their faces. Now he is their lesson. But they are no better then me. They would do the exact same fucking thing if they were me.