What the fuck makes me do this?

What is wrong with me?

Why does this feel so fuckin' good?

Why ignore this feeling just because I don't understand it?

I don't need to understand it to feel it. You think these question don't zip through my mind just like anyone else? You think the human part of me doesn't cry the whole time the goonimal slathers up and traps him inside?!

I should be in a fuckin' zoo.

Oh wait... I am. And here you are.

I am a real life monster.

I am a cryptid.

I am one of the fuckin' weirdos that 9 times out of 10 lives on the streets unable to carry on normal life.

I am just like the naked hairy giant men running through the forests that inspired The Grassman and the Skunk Ape.

I love what I am.

No harm to anyone. Just slop.

So study me. Watch me. Inspect every inch of this anomaly.

Deep down all wish to be different or unique--I can't help but be.

I was born for this.

Born to be this.

Born to become filthy over and over and over and over and over and over and over and voeandonver aondvonanrnaonvnoenonaoreornonaonronaonv.