I can talk.

I can talk. Can’t you? I doubt it. If you could then your lungs would have to work. But they don’t. I know. Don’t you worry about how I know. I am all knowing. You can’t know more than me. Even if you were all knowing I would know it plus one. So you see I’m cooler than you could ever possibly be. I am the definition of cool. Any other definition of cool sucks. I hate being cool. It sucks. Such a worthless thing to be. I like being myself. So I am not cool. But I am the definition of cool. Therefore coolness doesn’t exist. If it did your face would explode in a gewy mess. Yuck. That would be messy. And sticky. I don’t like messy sticky things. They taste bad. You know bad. That which is not me. I am not sticky or gewy. Therefore I rock. Rocking rocks so rockingly hard. Don’t you rockingly think so too? I know I do. ‘Cause it is true. I only speak truth. What emanates from my mouth is truth. You’ve been searching for it I assume. Well no you’ve found it. Now you can go kill yourself. Please go and do your business elsewhere. I don’t want feces on my cool shoes. Only cool shoes are cool. Unlike your face. Your face is not a pair of cool shoes. Maybe I should combine them. Awesomeness and fugliness. Combined they unmake reality. Wouldn’t that be sweet. Or not. Prolly not. But it could be a neat idea if I never thought about it. Or before I thought about it. It’s too late now. I thought about it. Dammit! That sucks. That idea rocked before I had it. Now it’s just stupid. Like pineapple. Why would anyone want pines on their apple. I prefer my apples pine free. Pines hurt when they prick your mouth. And then you start to bleed. And then you keep pricking yourself. You know, to make sure it wasn’t a freak accident. And then more and more freak holes keep opening on your face. Until you pass out from blood loss. Then it stops. ‘Cause everything is always good as new after a little rest.
Then you wake up and start floating. Floating towards the bright light. Soaring. Soaring high! Higher than you every got on acid. You know that time you poured Hydrofluoric acid down your shirt. That was a good idea. But someone pulled you away from the light and you woke up with heavy scarring on your chest. In the hospital. Chained to the bed. That hurt. Why did that jerk pull me back? And why did he try to tear out everything in my chest cavity. He must have been greedy. Greedy for extra organs. He already has 3 hearts 5 Livers and 80 kidneys. Why does he need more? He doesn’t. He’s just a jerk. You hear that jerk? That jerk is such a jerk.
Back to soaring. Soaring on high. Then high’s mother calls him to dinner and you have to stop soaring. Then you feel unloved and alone. And you climb under a car and start crying.
The sharp pain in your arm wakes you up from your nap. I hate being waken up with a sharp pain in my arm. Like when it falls off from lack of circulation. Or when a car severs it from your body. That hurts a lot more actually. A lot more. Ow. Wow. That was really painful. At least that can’t happen again. Now that I have no arms. Ah, life is so sweet to me.
Back to the light. Walk into the light. That leads to a burning feeling. The light is kind of hot. Kind of really hot. Really, really hot. This isn’t fun anymore. This is un-fun. Having your blood boiled out of you is just... ow. I can’t describe how mad this makes me. Who would go to the trouble to burn the blood out of my body. O, right jerks. I hate them so much. Them and you. I hate you. You suck. And blow. Like a crappy vacuum cleaner.
I’m dead now. This is boring. Kind of like not being alive. Pretty lame. Yea. Lame. That’s enough of that.
I decided that being dead was boring so I’m gonna stop now.