Who’s got control?

Is it me with my big dick wielding power and slaying the mindless cunts with my wretched humor and small time lines?

Is it that huge asshole with the car that we all covet and the job that forces him to wakeup hours before his body tells him that it is ok?

Maybe, it’s the slick princess who spends countless hours in the gym honing her body so that she can hold men captive with her tits but who always ends up having to fuck for her dinner and will continue to do so until those plastic tits rot off of her bones.

Perhaps the power lies in the old man who does nothing more but sit in his chair and have heavyset women push him around all day and change his bag of piss and shit and vomit.

We all sound out of control, like we’re praying to hit that tree at the end of the bend.