Hurts So Bad It Feels Good

Sometimes, accidental like, one of the snakes bites me instead of the mouse and I don't want the snake to let go.  Other times, when nothing bites, scratches, scrapes, cuts nor otherwise inflicts me I wish that I had been, you know, one or some or all above.  Sometimes I like the discomfort.  The flinch.  Pain.  Because the moment gives me an opportunity to endure.  And if I endure it.  I am still strong.  Endurance.  Strength.  Cut scrape scratch bite me.  I will.  I can.  Endure.  If I am not strong.  If have have no endurance.  I am nothing.  Strength is all I have.  That's why I work physical jobs.  Two jobs = 60 hrs a week.  Both require my body to be strong.  Physical endurance.  I'm stupid.  Can't rely on my mind.  So I rely on my body.  Sunday is my day of rest.  The only day when my body is not required to be anywhere but at home.  I like my body being required.  The strength of it.  I am physically intelligent.  Brain is shot to shit. Sometimes I think I might as well shoot it out of my skull.  Where am I going with this?  Where am I going at all?  Stay physically strack.  Yeah yeah yeah strong and sweating and working.  Two jobs.  Gotta keep going.  The more I engage my body the less I confront my stupid brain.  Whacked smacked ached brain.  Aged older than my body.  Shaving is like putting in a new transmission.  My stupid-brained scarred-fucked body.  Manual labor is my bread and butter.  Gotta stay strong.  Wish I could fall asleep.  Never do.  I pass out.  No falling, just passing.  Many times I don't remember how/when I got to the bed.  Sometimes I want to have sex with a woman.  No phone calls, no promises, out before the sweat dries.  And still be a gentleman.  Random thought for a random ending because I just wanted to write something:  someone wish me a goodnight.