It is after a long exasperated sigh that I sit here, pen of douche once again in hand. I can't say I have matured. No. Nor can I say that I have grown. Ya right. In fact, the only thing I can say about myself is that my love/hate relationship with this blog has grown into some sort of strange obsession. I click this page on an average frequency of, oh say...two times a day.
Two times a day I click this stupid page and stare at this stupid blog. Everyday. Twice.
Stupid blog. I hate you. I want to murder you. I want to rip out your entrails and rub them all over my my body. I want feast, in tender morsels, your unborn fonts. I fucking despise you. There are often times that I want to slowly chew on this retarded text box you call a home. I sometimes dream of a scream. A scream so deep that it gives rise to the quiet urges that beg me to punch your un-moderated lunacy. I want to rape you. I want to wipe that sorry flicker of your face. Beg for mercy you cached scum of a slut. Throwing your trails all over the internet like some flagrant whore. I want to kill you.
Sigh.
It's not all bad though stupid blog, no...it's not. Sometimes it's ok. Like when I find that sweet youtube video and I'm all...FUCK YA YOUTUBE. That's when your ok stupid blog. That's when its all ok. For it is only then that I can puncture your cavity and peer into the dense hell that is this internet. The dark matter of this universe they say. What is it? Where is it? See blog? This is what you do! You scour my brain for some half-hearted rhyme scheme begging to manipulated into a constananted symphony. Fuck you man. Fuck you.
You don't know me blog. You never did. You always took it upon yourself to play the emotional tampon. Well, you know what blog? FUCK YOU MAN. You don't own me. You don't pay my bills. I write you. I run this house.
P.S: Hi.
P.P.S: Stupid blog.
Two times a day I click this stupid page and stare at this stupid blog. Everyday. Twice.
Stupid blog. I hate you. I want to murder you. I want to rip out your entrails and rub them all over my my body. I want feast, in tender morsels, your unborn fonts. I fucking despise you. There are often times that I want to slowly chew on this retarded text box you call a home. I sometimes dream of a scream. A scream so deep that it gives rise to the quiet urges that beg me to punch your un-moderated lunacy. I want to rape you. I want to wipe that sorry flicker of your face. Beg for mercy you cached scum of a slut. Throwing your trails all over the internet like some flagrant whore. I want to kill you.
Sigh.
It's not all bad though stupid blog, no...it's not. Sometimes it's ok. Like when I find that sweet youtube video and I'm all...FUCK YA YOUTUBE. That's when your ok stupid blog. That's when its all ok. For it is only then that I can puncture your cavity and peer into the dense hell that is this internet. The dark matter of this universe they say. What is it? Where is it? See blog? This is what you do! You scour my brain for some half-hearted rhyme scheme begging to manipulated into a constananted symphony. Fuck you man. Fuck you.
You don't know me blog. You never did. You always took it upon yourself to play the emotional tampon. Well, you know what blog? FUCK YOU MAN. You don't own me. You don't pay my bills. I write you. I run this house.
P.S: Hi.
P.P.S: Stupid blog.
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