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T R S Oct 2019
Just have me heave a bit of hope filled hate.
I'm sorry.
I'm berate.

And it's only a face filled, unmentioned **** face.

My bad.
It's sad,

So go ahead and sell my up the river.

I'd rather be a salt made liver
than find out I was just a bad boy.

It's not okay.

I'm just a boy.

Make me bad.

Make me furious and sad and hold me accountable.

I'm a **** face.

Let but bull and bubble up my lid made speech.

It's okay,
but it wont' be neat.
T R S Oct 2019
I love you. Liberal party.
I'm ok. I will fight back.
Ban me, I don't care.
I just enjoy being a **** head.

It's nice.
Thank you for the opportunity.
Have a wonderful evening/
T R S Oct 2019
I have nothing to gain.
I just want you to squirm.
I have nothing to lose.
And I know you are a woooorm.
T R S Oct 2019
Every morning, on a run. a dandelion crossed my path.

I wish I were more smart,
but that's not me.
That's not what I have.

I can lose a homie.
And dip out a little bit.

And show how I'm not smarmy.
To no react to what is it.

Ask me a question.

Ask me all you can.

I just need want you on record.

And prove you are a man.
T R S Oct 2019
Having a glass of tea after a shower of frosty green grass.

It's only showing how well showers can amass a humble passage.

Never have I fastened how I've happened upon a life like this.

Please grow.

Please show now that plowing weakness into ambition is desperate.

It's blatant.

It'll show how cretins can bleat out hateful rhetoric.

And it's gross.

It makes a conscious heart sick.

So, lemme go.
Lemme show how much hate can glaze over us.
And that
can be enough.
T R S Oct 2019
Bleeding in a park bench,
Up you're ***.
Upended fast it the
Wrought-bent, upset,
Tortured-tilted dealing.

Sickened, ******, packed-apart narcissists
had held hate.

And placated nauseous fates.

Saddened.

Dicked apart.

Showed fascism and
hell-soaked ramen noodle dealings.

Really, I don't care.
But I rather have a hope,
than care about improper,
unhopeful, lawyer-made dealings.
T R S Oct 2019
*******,
****** painted perversions.

It's a simple symptom,
made of soy-based meat, and lumps of super sorry self hatred, held in solitary confinement with lies, and that little bit of **** that hangs off of your hands after you scrub your hands after you take a load.

After you ****.

Slugged off a solid mud-baked toad made of humilation and june bugs.

It *****.

And so do you.

Just dont' eschew how bad you've been,
because You're found out.
And you'll pay for every calorie.

Every ad-spot.
Every sin.
Every media spin that you hope
make you free.

Not even.

You're a cast off,
frozen bug.
Slug.
Salted.
Neutered.
Faulted.
Rotted.
Broken.
Blackened.
­Fractured.
****** up
thing.
You're nothing.
Natta.
Bladda.
Broken.
Stoked in a fire of lies.
Try.
Please.
Try to be a person.

Please.
Know what you lost.

because you're worse than a ****.

Worse than a ****!
It's absurd.
You should be in charge.
But instead you're a childish joke.
For real!

Commander-in-Chief!

You're the ******-at-large.
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