"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

A Moral Emetic for Mischievous Devastation

-Two-

There had must be a better metaphor
For the inerudite scythe,
Cunt-ingly splicing my ever begotten
Enticingly metered
Pantomime
Of life.

Damn well you are at worst inclined to lap
If you are to kill me right,
Wantonly my blood drained ever forgotten
Explicitly featured
In this
Rant of mine.

-Saturday, December 20, 2008

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