corner temper

For alone, I don't feel too cold. I'd been perspiring more, in fact. A year ago, my body craved the heat of the seasons. The warmth of almost nudity. The fucked up sweat in fucked up places and the fucked up breathing of the fucks around me. It's a new year now and I have promised nothing. I will further promise nothing, and I'll lay around with the blankets pulled off. This is me sulking for a year and some. This is me idle at the bottom. This is me bad. This is me at refusal. Me at contempt. I wake up bored and uncomfortable. Then proceed to my days bored and uncomfortable. Better days I think things will fall into place, but I'm the most terrific liar I know and denial is my sidekick. I surround myself to three of the same faces and I cycle through three of the same emotions.
I'm not happy and I haven't been in a while.
I'm really fucking pissed off and I will be for a while. I wish to be sad, but I have on my devilish ways now and I got ten on me that I'll destroy everything I have left.