Friday, June 29, 2007

You flying shits

all of you, you fucked up Stockholm syndrome sycophants,

you bitching tramps, you mendicants, you terrible twats,

have some fun, you frowning trolls, you spittle-flecked fuckers,

stop making my world tiny and parametered by your little-brained and little-thought, nasty jibing, mean-spirited carping,

stop your headache, stop your breathing (because it's my air you're wasting), and have some joy.

And only then can you have a part in my shining landscape,

and until then, live in the hell of your own making,

and stop your shit-smelling invasion.

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