"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

Sriracha Sauce for All Costs

Living is a film
And we must act accordingly.

As if our only moments were taped
And distributed at will
To everyone
With viable currency.

Raped of consensus
I beg of thee
To remain intact
And give being
To what is currently
Dying inside of you.
I see it.

That only burning thing
I would have murdered for.
The death and dying
Of a cantankerous being…
So be it
If needed.

I witness a rancor
Words will not describe
Listless and contrite…
I suffer, being
Only a scribe.

“Ich hab keine Lust…”
Life is a kung-fu kick to the nuts.
Mir ist kalt.
And that chill is a formidable roost
But I still proffer the ‘metal fingers,’
Without doubt,
You fucking cunts.

Warring from afar, undone
Asunder lies
Now our conspiring mense
We both wish that we could have won
In the only true sense
Him and I…

Mann Gegen Mann.

-Monday, January 12, 2009

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