I can't type read or spell anything. It's all flibbery joo jibberish, and I don't care, because I love every god damned heart felt second of it.
this isn't a hand, it's a perch for my face, while the loose skin sinks between the fingers, as I melt onto the desk.
dysfunction junction... WHAT'S YOUR FUNK SHUN?!
do you believe in the idea that an individual can have a moral agenda that is separate and, at times, completely opposed to the one YOU fucking have? So what? Why be afraid of that? It's ok that I think your god is a silly fantasy land for people who have a hard time coping with loss and suffering. Streets paved in gold? What... Is god too cheap for platinum? I mean, be serious.
oh right, but I forgot.. I'm the idiot too stoned to see things for what they are. I'm the guy who's too fucking MUCH OF A WASTO LOSER to have any sensible things to say.
look at my picture, X.
fuck you. Read this shit again, and this time, read it out loud, and if you don't use the proper cadence, and follow the obvious rhythm, them just go away now, and forever hold your breath.
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