The binge

What now?
Being educated by composure?
Being taught moderation?
Being fucking annoyed over my own expressions of my very self?

I ain't sorry if it was discomforting.
I ain't sorry if it was too much for you.
I ain't sorry if i asked for comprehension, and got ways to be helped.

Did I, EVER, asked for any of those?
Your help disgusts me, your ways, your moderation bores me, your achievements are signs of painful mediocrity to me.
Ignorance, breeding preposterous solutions to problems you know nothing, nothing at all, about.

Reach, reach the fuck out.
Out of your limits, out of meaning, out of concern, out of reason, out of responsibility, out of thy, bloody, self.

Be, for once, and once only, fucking light!
Do, for once, enjoy.

I guess not.
Control, control, control.
But a heart-stroke and you're out.

Try control that, you twat.