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23.10.08
although possibly, even though.
so...this is it? this is what people do no? they really do fancy girls who look like boys and boys who act like girls? girls who are quivery and delicate and coarse and fucking cheap. but, shit - you look as if an Oscar grew soft little tits and blonde hair.
this is really what we're doing? people are throwing people from their houses, scared of neigh bours and decorators discovering nights of japanese rice crackers and google earth? this is what we're doing.
and jesus - this is what you're doing, isn't it? i, don't, care. please, please let me not care - i spent so long caring, so long worrying and making sure and being attentive. let me not care, for once. let me be the one to not return phonecalls, the one to want nothing, the one to be selfish, fuck i know it is disgusting but today i was cleaning a wine glass and i used my own saliva to get the dirt off. this is what i do now.
this is it, this is it. i'm tired, and fulfilled, i'm bored, bits are missing, the puzzle is complete, shit is transient, transience is shit. it's buttery, it's snappy...
this is what I'M doing:
i don't write with capitals, i don't know where Skopje is but i do know how to spell it, i am fucking sarcastic and i will shit on you, lyrically, poetically with fucking finesse and wit like a falling box of brand new gilettes if you assume i'm stupid, you posh wanker. you filthy cur, you fucking sonofabitch.
some of this shit is just so funny i want to crash my car in painful laughter and emerge from the smoking, steaming, blackened wreck pealing like the laughing fucking policeman and you will be FREAKED, THE FUCK, OUT.
whispered by killa b at 9:30 PM |
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