i used to write notes like a boss or a bitch with nothing to do but spit on a wire and admire the shit i could writ exhaust the shit lament the loss of my fucking fit hot dog soaked in lime makes a rather tasty brine; i mean if you're going to be self-deprecating you may as well be defecating and processed meat marinated in citrus should sound like a treat make your visit quick, make it soggy and make it slick MAKE IT RIP let the earth tar slide out that hole like a caramelized mole runs from a child's stick or hot sauce [that vinegar chile juicy juicy hit] may or may not force the exodus but as long as you're backwards puking chime and dust YOU MUST YOU MUST remedy the ultimate suffering that is waiting blankly & not pretending otherwise c'mon you guys i'm just trying to rhyme
[i'd like to dedicate this poem to the people who don't like my poetry.]
