godxes

Kiss my ass you patron of Hell. Come kiss me once. Or maybe twice. It's all the same. We'll both die alone and rot through the floors of our deluxe double-wide trailer trash homes that were not homes but had enough real-estate interest to become gurus of a hip new cult full of twists and turns and suicide pacts, chock full of enzymes to neutralize the temper of the family dog whose life span enshrouds that of the family goldfish are a good snack from Pepperidge Farms, INC. it into your own style and be different by using the same ethics and manners you were taught.

Be yourself and let everyone else die, knowing what makes the wheels on the bus pop and crackle in the flamethroweres embrace of destruction = WAR, or vice versa, deja vu, hoaxing the Fiji mermaid in the seat of a Jewish power monger whose physical traits have been affirmed to be Himmler's right-hand nanny, gun totin' psycho from All In The Family and pictures of tee-shirts with clever slogans are wasted on kids with too much ambition to become next year's drag pin-up classic on the Arts channel with Bob Hope as television's Anti-Christ in the classic sense is purely homosexual with little or no bigotry directed towards slave-owning white females pungently odored in the box by sulphuric acid glistening on bubbles of skin graft ART IS LOST

Oh, and my girlfriend of two years has been fucking someone else. I'm sure it's her friend Daniel. I'm going to wreak havoc on his aura. I'm an idiot. THE first girl I loved is the THIRD girl, whom I wasn't aware was so promiscuous. Where are all these prostitutes coming from? Is it the tap? No. I'm fine. It must be that I have horrible taste.