Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television.
Choose washing machines, cars...
compact disc players
and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health...
and dental insurance.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear
and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire
purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Chose D.I.Y. and wondering who the fuck
you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch
spirit-crushing game shows...
stuffing fucking junk food
into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all.
Pissing your last in a miserable home;
nothing more than an embarrassment...
to the selfish, fucked-up brats
that you've spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future.
But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life.
I chose something else.