the security guard says, “sir, you cant smoke here, this a hospital”
i say, “nigga, please, its the cancer ward, these mothafuckas are on their way out anyways, lemme have my smoke in peace, damn.”
“nah sir, due to like laws and regulartories, the, uh, policy say you no can smoke here so like, you gotta put it out.”
“oh for the love of gay jesus, fine” i put out the cigarette on my forehead then swallow the butt, “see? happy?” i say, showing the toothless guard my empty mouth.
“that is like, uh, very good comply sir, at this like, uh, current conjuncture”
i walk through the cancer ward and maybe its because im white or maybe its because im wearing a doctors coat but everyone keeps stopping me and asking me dumbass doctor shit. there are some parents of terminally sick children in the cafeteria and as i crunch up three percocets to snort some of the parents come up to me and ask if poor old johnny or suzy are going to be OK and of course i lie and say, “yea sure, everyone’s always going to live forever” but i don’t lie because im mean or want to give them false hope (which may or not be better than no hope) but simply because im trying to hurry up and snort these fucking percs before i start to feel actual feelings again.
“thank you so much doctor” they all say as they bathe and kiss my feet, even some of the milfier mommies wink at me seductively while tugging at my crotch but jokes on them, my government mandated castration prevents me from getting erections. oh, i still get turned on, i just cant cum or anything.  

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i bet youre one of those guys that listen to music. i bet youre one of those guys that jerk off to porn of women having sex with men. i bet youre one of those guys that ejaculates semen. i bet youre one of those guys who eat 800 calories a day and sleeps for only 4 hours but always has an abundance of energy and everyone wants to be your friend. i bet youre one of those guys with horns and a tail and on sundown every friday you drink the blood of a pure, flawless baby while your man slave counts the rent checks of the poor people you slumlord over.

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dreams fade away in synch with channels changing. on channel 5 flashing images of scrawny black kids wearing huge over-sized tuxedos spliced with hardcore gay amputee porno, boy CNN is really letting its programming go. keep the volume on mute to concentrate on melting into the void further.

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for a second there i thought i saw blood in my semen but it was really just a sauce stain on my hand from pizza last night. i ate an entire large pie with pepperoni. the menu said the pie was ‘family sized’ which, if you know me, is very ironic. i sleep walked through the first 6 slices like they were nothing. it wasnt until i took the first bite of the seventh slice when i started to feel insanely dizzy and nauseous and the pizza started to smell like dirty homeless pussy. at that point i put slice #7 down and seriously contemplated suicide. i tried thinking of a reason not to jump out of my 6th story window and the only thing i could come up with is that there was a tiny chance i might survive the fall, which would be a fate both worse than death and worse than my current state of life. so i googled ‘odds of surviving a sixth story fall’ to which i got an answer of 50% chance of dying from a fall from 4 stories up and 90% chance of death from 7 stories which i guess worked out to roughly 80% chance of death from the sixth story which were not odds i was comfortable with.