LOST...One id

No, wait a tick...IT'S RULING MY LIFE EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY!!!  I am a prepubescent boy with a raging hard-on for aggression and "uncoordinated instinctual trends."  When this hard-on rages...look out every corner of the room,  cuz you bout to be covered in nut juice.  I am a mood disorder given to movement.  I am impressed by others yet lack any ability to impress myself.  It's been nearly a year since my last true immersion into creativity and I rot with doubt and loathing.  Morose is a cloud which hovers, diminishes but never really dies.  Clouds don't die...idiot!  I berate myself, for who else will?  Who out there has enough sense, courage and stamina to welcome my inabilities and dysfunction with gentle good natured ribbing?  A dog may...but only cuz I feed him and whip him indefatigably.  Weariness will never plague me as I am consumed by terror.  All this time and no results?  What fruits have I labored so that they be returned to me?  If not in time, then when?  Then fucking when...Others, so keen on the machine seem to struggle less and joy more.  They receive and suckle at the tit of accomplishment and fulfillment whilst i look on in despair, disgust, jealousy and slavery.  I slave.  I drudge, I disconnect, I reconnect and suffer.  Who inside wants more?  Nay, demands it?  What do i crave in this deep still, but silence and warmth?  I reach for instantaneous pleasure in drink, in smoke, in love...all of which, mere distractions on my road of detriment and dolor.  I can replace and repair but never escape...myself.  So I carry me with me in remote pieces that never quite fit...killing time with emotion and nonsense.  Staring back is always someone better...smarter...kinder....apt in every way I wanna be and judging me with cold indifference.   Judgement with indifference...not an easy task at hand, yet somehow so effectively proficient.  Gratitude is a fickle fiend who befriends me when it deems me worthy.  At other times, always the inopportune ones, I am abandoned by the side of the road, this road of being...left to my malaise and insecurity.  I fend off these troubled thoughts for as long as I am allowed, they always resurface however and I am plunged into turmoil and angst once more.  I am a secluded malcontent hack with time for unsavory thoughts and far too much to achieve in the empty space allotted.  I'll take my peg from the square it will never quite occupy and drown it in sorrow and cheap wine...ugh...only people with talent and drive are able to admonish such claptrap...I am just a drunk.