Joe Hardcore

Chapter 2: You're a dying breed.

I like short chicks. I am a short chick. I'm only 5'7 but I'm stalky and fit. I'm 180 pounds of nearly all muscle. My stomach isn't as defined as it should be. Sorry, not sorry?

I have pale skin and brown hair. My eyes are hazel which I think means they're sometimes green and sometimes brown. I prefer green. My eyebrows grow in perfect. Perfect! I get accused of shaping them. They shape themselves I guess.

I want to call Jenna and have her wheel over to my house. I'll carry her up onto the porch and place her on the bed. I'll help her slide off her pants. That's my favorite part. It's so sexy to see the panties. Seeing the vagina is fine but the panties tight around the hips and snug on her Butterfly causing a camel toe is profoundly desirable. It's the reason I'm alive. All I can think about is sex this morning. I want to keep her panties and smell them until they no longer have a scent before I wear them under my clothes in secret. What we do is secret. I'm still imagining her legs lifted tightly behind her head.

I could insert anything I wanted into her and she couldn't feel it. I wonder if anyone has ever taken advantage of that situation before. I could dissect her. I also wonder if she would fake it or of she would lay still and silent as if she was doing me a favor. She couldn't do doggy style. She couldn't go down on you and perform oral. You could reverse 69. There's not many options.

I still wish she'd cut off her legs. I wonder where exactly feeling ends and numbness begins. Will she feel if I tickle her belly button with my tongue or suck on her nipples? I'm sure she has feeling in her neck. I couldn't kiss and bite her neck like a vampire while I slide an oversized object in and out of her backside for my own personal amusements. Sometimes I think I'm a pretty sick guy.

I have to take my guitar to the family reunion today. I need to practice no matter where I am. I couldn't imagine doing a show, recording or simply attending band practice and not knowing my material.

My music is my life and if I don't succeed at this I won't succeed at anything. My guitar is out of tune and I can't tune by ear. Tone deaf. I don't use my acoustic much aside from at times like this. I want to be better at my craft and I'm trying my best but I've been trying my best for eleven years.

I got my first guitar, a used black fender stratocaster and a small ten Watt amp for Christmas when I was ten years old. I played until my fingers bled like it was the summer of '69. Bryan Adams would have been proud. My mom wasn't happy with her decision. She heard iron man by black sabbath played repetitively for over a month. Without distortion. I'm sure her ears bled simply from the annoyance. Someday I'm going to make enough money playing music to make my mom proud but I can't keep wondering how many sexually exploratory young woman have sex with male dogs.

I need to masturbate again or I'm going to be touching myself while staring at my cousins breasts in front of my entire family and not realize I'm doing it until I have a fist full of knuckle children.

You take a xanax. You take all the benzo's you have. Xanax is only good when it's your mom's. When you're an adult and prescribed or recieving an annual subscription like myself it's just a way to nap without wanting to nap. Subscription. As if it comes in the mail and you fap to it like sports illustrated bikini edition or hustler.
You take anti-depressants, anti-psychotics. You wait. You cook crack. You wait. Crack is easy to cook.

Recipe for certain addiction and death:

1 part baking soda.
3 parts cocaine.
10ml of water.

Cook in a spoon over lighter heat until boiling. Blow on it to cool and wait. You're always waiting. It hardens. You smoke it and it mixes well with your mom's Xanax.

I want to be straight edge but I'm not sure I'm straight enough. Meat is for pussies.

I play guitar in a hardcore band. A subgenre of punk that's became it's own entity, really. There's subgenres of hardcore now which I suppose makes it a genre of it's own. My band is named Joe Hardcore after myself, Joseph Harleigh but people still call me Joe Hardcore. I suppose I am almost everything and nothing that hardcore stands for. Most people in this scene are vegan and straight edge. I'm omnivore and drug addict.

I love the music and the people. I love the girls in the scene and I love to fuck them. I'm sophisticated and strong but I'm also slow and weak. We all have our vices. You can become addicted to working out and I may be.

I want to be tough. I want to be gorgeous. I want to stand out and display a false confidence that smacks you in the part of your brain that makes you want to fuck me and most importantly I want to laugh about it. I want to be rich. I want to be famous. I want guitars. I want women. I want love. I want you.