It is five AM and I am listening

WTF @ EVERYTHING AND ALL OF YOU.

There. I feel better. Fucking people. Fucking Victorians. Fucking Odysseus. Fucking robots. Fucking humans. Fucking FUCK. I am going to never finish anything and fail all of my exams and flunk and go to California and write and become famous AND NONE OF YOU WILL EVER HEAR FROM ME AGAIN. EVER. EVER EVER EVER BECAUSE I WILL BE FUCKING GODDAMN FAMOUS OR MAYBE HOMELESS.

I'm going to Ithaca with Circe and the Cyclops and we'll feed each other grapes and Greek sailors and turn seabirds into men and women and then turn the men into pigs and the women into mongeese.
I'm going to run away to London and walk the streets at night in a corset and waistcoat and kill vampires and dance for bread and ale and work in a wine-bottle-washing factory and become a governess and teach small children how to play the guitar.
I'm going to Mars.
I'm going to Las Vegas in a rental car with a midget to dissect the remnants of the American Dream. I have bad dreams.
I'm going to California, and I'm going to find a little tiny town that hasn't changed since 1985 and climb up to the clocktower with a squirt gun filled with LSD and wait for the Time Police to come and arrest me.
I'm going to Providence to summon a monster to eat the world.
I'm going to Florida to ride ostriches with my little brother.
I'm going to Los Angeles to build a screenplay about lovers who erase each others' existence.
I'm going to West Berlin.
I'm going to Alpha Centauri.
I'm going to Aryneth to play as soon as I find my towel.
I'm going to the cemetary to fuck a ghost.
I'm going to Washington to play the guitar.
I'm going to the GSA. We'll have an orgy.
I'm going to Farmington Hills.
I'm going to Berkeley. I'm going to Whileaway. I'm never, ever going home again.
This is not a goddamn poem.