Pages of Further Description
Whatever ridiculous thing
The insects do to get sex,
it seems to be working for them.
As for us, we have the real thing.
I am always alone, I dislike
the otherness of others.
Turn off, I'm turning off
how sad is it to turn off!
Everything is all a bunch of shit
that's turning off
all around me
and is also outdated,
And I'm turning gradually off,
I can feel it;
my outlook is changed
(but it's still day to day.)
Meanwhile, did you know that
sex is the only kind of tickling
we can do to ourselves?
Ah, this is sick writing, maybe
I'm already sick.
Maybe some fateful thing
lurks within me right now.
I will spare you pages
of further description.
Whatever ridiculous thing
The insects do to get sex,
it seems to be working for them.
As for us, we have the real thing.
I am always alone, I dislike
the otherness of others.
Turn off, I'm turning off
how sad is it to turn off!
Everything is all a bunch of shit
that's turning off
all around me
and is also outdated,
And I'm turning gradually off,
I can feel it;
my outlook is changed
(but it's still day to day.)
Meanwhile, did you know that
sex is the only kind of tickling
we can do to ourselves?
Ah, this is sick writing, maybe
I'm already sick.
Maybe some fateful thing
lurks within me right now.
I will spare you pages
of further description.
