2.12 am. Sex, the escape I desperately seek:
How do I get the fidgeting to stop? How do I turn off my fucking brain? Why is it, that only when someone is hitting my head against something really hard, that the voices still? Why does it take a hand obstructing my throat, withholding oxygen, for my body to accept the pleasure? Capitalism did its job well, turning us all into robots, incapable of silencing the race. The primordial becomes luxury, a coping mechanism. Oh, wait, don’t stop… here comes the breath of salvation.