A bitter fuck-fest of lollapalooza.
Burn(ing) me, man. but don't taze me, bro.
If I got high on legalized substances, am I still escaping?
Metaphoric endorphin rushing as patio furniture sits silently,
slowly choking as I fill it with my own ass.
I haven't written in so long, because I lack some passion.
I haven't written verbal joust in the form of bitter tongue because I felt it lacked restraint.
I fucked with a straight jacket; it felt great.
Perpetual virginity, a fool's errand running.
I have my V-card still; kind of... it's stunning.
I left a can of gasoline at an alien's house.
I came back and fire had engulfed what was left of my sorrows.
"I thirst," said He, the savior of the world.
Let's all ignore the singing signs of everything, boys... girls...
I have not a word to say in recompense for exploitation of your idiotic murmurings.
Well done, my good and faithful burdenings.
I can't speak to what hasn't yet been said,
but I can sure as hell guestimate, that we'd probably all be dead.
This dick ain't free.
Thank you, Kendrick Lamar, for reminding me.
This is me unfettered.
This is me unchained.
Give me a pen and some paper:
this shit will get strange.
I am Fred Astaire with a cock so fine, you'd think it's aged wine the way it twirls and floats.
Breaking up is shitty, now put this poem down your throat.