Pre-cum Philosophy

They say life’s a journey —

like some off-the-shelf greeting card

for losers pretending life’s more than a slow-burn death.

Fuck that. You want the truth?

Life’s a cheap striptease —

slow, shitty, and full of false promises.

You’re just the sucker in the front row,

waiting for the real show that’ll gut you like a fish.

Life’s just foreplay —

an endless, desperate blowjob with no climax, no closure

a grimy sloppy handjob from a drunk you paid to make you feel important.

You waste your breath chasing orgasms,

but all you get is questionable circumstances for main course and regret for dessert.

We’re born screaming,

then spend decades choking on disappointment —

learning to fake pleasure

while the clock ticks down

to the only release that matters.

Death?

Death’s the only orgasm we’re guaranteed —

no warnings, no second chances,

a climax so final your body doesn't even shudder, 

a closure so real it doesn't allow for rebounds

just the cold, hard knife through your heart

when time finally gets bored of indulging in your narcissistic bullshit.

You’re not alive, you’re a carcass with delusions,

a cockroach atop an nuclear weapon,

pretending you matter,

when every breath is just stealing air

from the inevitable dirt that’ll eventually bury you.

And the irony?

You’re terrified of dying —

but you’re already dead in the head,

trapped in a rerun of misery

while the world fucks you sideways,

and you beg for more.

So drop the journey bullshit,

stop chasing fairy tales and rainbow-fart dreams.

Life is a festering wound,

and you’re just waiting for the scab to fall off.

Here’s the savage truth —

there’s freedom in the fuckery,

joy in the chaos,

because the only climax worth fearing

is the one that finally shuts you the fuck up.

So live loud, burn hard, spit fire —

because life’s just foreplay —

and death?

Death’s the only orgasm we’re guaranteed.

So when it comes, don’t moan — grin.

At least this one doesn’t fake it.