Disbelieving Bullets

My prayers have been answered. Now I have to accept it.
I’d be happier drunk. And I’d like people a lot more. And, maybe, even myself. I’d be happier screwing a porn star, no, wait, two porn stars, tooting yard rails and candy-flipping. Oh, and fuck the job, money would make me happier.
God has nothing to do with it.
How tragic; how much better evil appears to be than good.
Here I am, alone, wrestling with a man.