Yeah, that's a good idea.

Let's numb an ice-cold tub of jelly.

Then let's put some shit

And watch it melt away.

Next day.

Someone collected the jelly,

Reconstituted it with coffee,

And put it in his ears.

He's all good until three o'clock

When the orange nurse comes.

If you knew you had six months,

For whose voice would you be waiting?

Your family's? What family?

Your friends are on vacation,

God doesn't exist,

And you've already talked to Satan.

Now one month.

You're son's on the phone.

"Tell him it's too late."

Gamma Rays don't numb.

What numbs is the whipping of belts to the face.

Break the cycle?

When you're trapped in a corner at four years old?

Fucking cowards. They knew better.

They gave into their weakness

And cost a man his life.

What price should be paid?

I'll throw away my future.

I'm weak, lazy. I fear pain.

So let me cut the rope, please.

I'm saving someone's life.

This is the feeling of having no future.

Of looking forward to the good times.

And seeing through their holograms.

Am I a soothsayer?

Then how am I certain

I won't live to see my children cry?

It's that gut feeling

That goes to your throat

And stays there.

It knows how to keep me down

And see the triviality in waking up.

In the moment,

Good times are good.

Out of the moment,

Bad times are bad.

I don't know what I love more,

The memories, the sleep, the dreams.

It's so easy to stretch the mind.

But can you shape the universe?

Humpty Dumpty sat on a pillow.

See how easy?

Tackle it now!

But first let me get these ropes off of my ankles

And away from my eyebrows.

That lump in my throat is shit,

A figment, they say.

Okay.

Is this me.

Or is this me me.

I know this isn't me.

Nor is this.

So please, pick one,

But not from the ones I've shown you.