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Why did the chicken cross the road?
Take my mother-in-law, please…
Knock knock. Who’s there? Banana.
This is how I feel:
like an old, bad joke.

Demineralised tears, salty chinhairs.
Watching the girls go by
from a blanketed bathchair.
This is how I feel:
like a sad old man.

I can’t play guitar .
I can't shoot up smack.
I can’t  position, point and blast the shotgun.
This is how I feel:
like a one-armed Kurt Cobain.

Carcrash *****. Gross gunt.
***** like the Predator’s face.
Vertical smiley with lips of eviscera
Francis Bacon might attach on messenger.
This is how I feel:
like a fat ugly ****.

You haven’t called me.
You don’t care like you used to.
You don’t care at all, but why should you?
How you feel is how I feel,  
I empathise entirely.
But you get to dump me,
I have to annihilate me.

— The End —