My fucking body's trying to kill me.
I have itchy hives on my elbows that stop me from sleeping, my turtleneck choking my captain, farts that smell like they can melt metal and shit that comes out like mud - and I'm sure it can burn through most things like lava.
My diabetes and asthma aren't even acting up yet, and the fact that I'm balding doesn't even matter to me anymore.
Ever since I've been an adult, living on my own, I've lived like a King. Now, at 33, I feel like I'm about to die at the age kings used to die at, having indulged in most things they'd indulged in - except taxing the poor, of course.
Occupying Wall Street sounds like a good idea, but for now, I'm still trying to just occupy my own body, my own cage.
I'll let you know how that turns out.
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