Wednesday, February 20, 2008

pardon my french

i am so fucking fuming mad i could rip out your fucking intestines and make them into slingshots, with your eyeballs as my weapon of choice. you scorned the wrong bitch, bitch.

please don't fucking excuse yourself by telling me you did it because you cared because, motherfucker, you and i are selfish bastards of the twenty-first century. we've sworn off all potential for caring for another individual because we exist in our own stupid little worlds. its just your weak insecurities that you translate in your pretentious existence, so much so that you have to create excuses for your every action.

fucking corporate zombie, you sold out for a meagre salary. you fucking dull mundane humdrum. my pet monkey is more imaginative than you. does it kill you to have a bit of variation or is the thought of stretching your pathetic little comfort zone too fucking ungodly and should never be uttered by the lips of a mediocre homosapien? this isn't surprising since you live within the constricts of your narrow mind.

there, tripped and rant.

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