Who Don It?

Life.
Life.
Living.
Who done it?
Who am I?

What the purpose?
Post cumming.
Existential dread.

Why?
Desire?
Craving?
Reproduction?

Am I some biological machine, tricked into believing I have free will, playing out a series of predetermined actions?

I'm not sure. Fuck it, let's have fun.

Can these questions be answered?
Sure, I guess so. Maybe, everything is possible.
Do they need to be?
Does anything?

Do I need to answer them?
No.

That I am certain of.
On, off.

There is no in between.

Might as well focus on other things.
Who do I want to be?
What do I want to spend my time doing?
What impact do I want to have on the world around me?

Compost!
Worms!
Poop!

Let's get it.
Like Lil Pump, pour a cup, forget about the haters and get mo fuckin crunk.