I had planned on heading to Home Depot, because my way of life had required a gross of wooden stakes.

144 ounces of hate made of wood would construct a plank of self hatred that I would keep harbored away until judgement day.

Likewise, I had hoardes of rotten twinkies to sink into the soil.

Sink away and sink, boil away the toil of broken hearts an overboiled sunken sweets.

Seep into the grown, the sullen sugar can and will boil away in the hate soaked heat that made the life of our ancients so gay and disfrayed.

Mild emotions and ambitions only manage to feed the hungry monsters that have ensconced themselves in power have yet to abate their desire to gobble up everything that is not them.

Tears are a colorful thing
They fall down the faces of all

They can come from over joyment
Flowing with your friends
Grabbing your side in pain
As laughing's growing louder

They can come in times of pain
From hardships that occur
They draw attention near
But sometimes not as needed

Tears are an outlet of emotion

I kissed my blonde princess
When we first met she smiled
And held my hands
Smiling together signs
Of utter love, love
Holding her in my arms
Her blonde hair blowing
In the cool breeze
Feeling our love entwined
By happiness joyment
I'm proudly in love my heart
Sings a romantic tune
Sweetness pride my darling love
Never feeling sad always apart
Of her touching heart
Always dreaming of us
But o baby o baby
I'm growing old with you
Tonight as my sweetheart
Kissed me and whispered
Together we will grow old
As one beating heart.

What would happen if the smartest dude you ever knew had gargled half of glass of alkaline work, and half asinine notions?


What would it make?

A potion of well-constructed posited positions based on logic?

Or a self-constructed swamp bewailed in muddy air the had never even shared the point of life and joyment?

Instead the swamp was employed by devils deployed to only stack up and foster self-hatred?