fucking zits.

   Another day.  Another dollar.  Another zit.  Not one.  Not two.  Three and counting.  I hate looking in the mirror.  Imperfections everywhere.  How do I ever get laid?  Zits.  Balding.  Hairy.  Big ears.  Broken nose.  Blind.  Taylor crying.  Always crying.  Sex drive gone.  Is age finally catching up to me?  Everything tells me that I am getting old.  Except the zits.  FUCKING ZITS.  Tired.  Mind sleeping but cannot sleep.  Sleeping pills not working.  Even when mixed with booze.  Tossing and turning.  Anxiously waiting for the next day to start.  To stare in that mirror once again.  Hoping and hoping for a clear face.  Worries I do not need.  Worries of a teenager still haunting me.  Others worry about mortgages and kids.  I worry about zits and kids.  Worries nonetheless.  Listening to dumb opinions still.  Dumb opinions by dumb boring people.  When will I realize that I am far more interesting than anyone?  STOP LISTENING TO THESE MINIONS!!!  Politically correct duds!!!  Smiley.  Cute.  Not funny.  Thinking they’re funny.  Thinking they are fun.  NOT REALIZING HOW BORING THEY ARE.  Sipping on their borrowed beer.  Reciting boring opinions.  Going home to their boring lives.  Boring wives.  FUCKING STIFFS!!!  I’m bored writing about them.  Have to stop.  Mind falling asleep.  Me tossing and turning.  Feeling the zits starting to evolve.  Tired.  Goodnight.