You Will Never Bring Me In

Right. Once, I was a boy. There was a time. I was young. I felt good. More importantly, I felt. I don’t really feel anything anymore. I don’t like things I ought to love. I can’t stand the thought of having sex. I loathe not being drunk. I wasn’t always like this.
I used to think great things were possible. I now only wish that complete ruin of every system is possible. Destruction. Ground zero. Reset.
Every government abandoned.
Every economic system and transaction obliterated.
Every God worshipped and burned.
Wreck it.
Make it bleed.
Watch it gasp.
Send it on its way.
This is my fucked up dream - to live in a world where everyone fends, wildly and primitively, for themselves.
I want it to die.
I like soccer.
I like sports.
I need a job.
I don’t even desire things. I simply recognize things must happen.