Improbable fiction
This is crap, John.
This stinks.
This is a stupid joke,
a script that noone would give a shit about - let alone publish,
this is cheap fiction at its sappy worse.
This is us, John.
This sucks.
This is the bottom,
the bloody pink bubblegum stuck on a whore's heel bottom,
the piss of a drunk loser in the oh-what-have-I-done morning after bottom,
this is when humanity goes bad.
This is who moves and shakes,
who music-makes and dreams,
who dazzles and teaches others how to fly,
this is us,
us,
the oh-so-special
specialspecialspecial ones;
we hit the bottom, John –
who will be at peace when the light goes out?
~
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favaki giati "aggixe" kapoies xordes mou
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(\ /)
( . .)
c(")(") sodomizing bunnies is fun
Σ' ευχαριστώ.
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"I sing what was lost and dread what was won,
I walk in a battle fought over again,
My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men,
Feet to the Rising and Setting may run,
They always beat on the same small stone."
- W. B. Yeats.
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