Fake Newts

Fuck you.

I’m fed up with you.

This song isn’t as good as it should be.

It might be afraid of you.

But fuck you anyway.

And fuck this pussy song.

It all feels wrong.

This is a bunch of gibberish you fucking gimcrack-loving, gesture-hugging, snow-globe-loving….oh, i forgot what I was saying.

Anyway.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Or it means everything.

There isn’t anything I could say or mean or pretend to glean that would even begin to end the suffering.

Do you feel that?

Good. You’re not dead.

Do you wish you were?

Then you might actually

Be.

Alive.

Ya dumb bastard…ya thought this mattered?

We’re nuthin’ but atoms…

Murderous Adams…

Slam us together like pogs…

Remember pogs?

Now in ALF form!

Hideous and malformed.

Help me, Rhonda,

Cat form.

In a romantic struggle or storm,

As if a proto-emo killed himself,

and yet we both know…

I mean we’ve all seen…

That what they say upon a screen

Is so much more than lead they’d eat.

I mean,

That lead is more a lead.

If you read instead of read,

Then you’d probably mislead

An entire generation of pleebs.

I’m babbling again.

This means nothing.

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About dialectetus

You can't look twice at the same profile... eh it works for streams. Do the same electrons remain trapped in the same place in the same server until I change this profile? I would think not, but I'm no physicist. If so, I feel bad for those little particle men. Words are spells. One spells words. At least, that's what they tell me...
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Go ahead...talk smack...trolls.

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