The television blares in the distance, a monotonous groan complimenting an already blatent farce. fashion product hocked on air for the skulls of children.. the bones taste this way only when you cook them.. another day on the planent and so another half assed leap out of "the sack" maybe because by the end of the day you just hit, like concrete from skyscrapers, giving local businessmen a dread of the ominous sky, darkened by the weight of doom and paralyzing anything that comes close to real.. distant screams plague incessant dreams while sickness reigns as lord of chaos, churning and bubbling us all to stew.. where this concotion goes no one knows, thrown to the dogs to keep the meat hanging off their bones no doubt, the skin hangs loosely around the mutts face as he drinks the slime of another age from rusted bowls aged from years of weathering.. where will you be in 10 years... where in 5? am i sure its years? y not days or months... seems more plasuible to me that im murdered sometime somewhere. i know deep down that someone is real sick a me and all this spiraling out of control.. put a bullet in my head, i conceed... fuck the world and everything therin lol because today is not the day for flowers and tyedye...
03/07/11
whatsupyall
howdy yall i aint not got alot of lernin so bear wit mee on dis... elll o ell