wtf

and covered in copper wire, he found a new way to celebrate. one that was not self centered and self contained, one that felt more important than anything else he had done in his life. he stepped one foot after the other brisuqely to the balcony overlooking his plain. empty but for one tree, sprouting greenish leaves crudely and ungracefully in all directions, like an afterthought. he was so upset!!! taking a rifle in both hands like a hunter scoping prize , pulling the trigger like a monster piercing at least a dozen leaves, or at least grazing at least a dozen (probably more), evrything was in order. he looked at his watch and wanted so desperately to read the newspaper but he knew very well that he couldnt bare to. there was extreme sickness inside of him and all he could really think to do was attack imself, first from the insides - red blood cells started turning white - then beating his chest. His shoulders lurched forward in a grotesque display of harm. handwriting meant nothing.