I heard that I was an angry writer.
I’m not angry enough to provide rebuttal for [heresay],
so, [here,
say]
something that we all actually care about.
I repeat, I’m not angry,
but I’m definitely pretentious enough
to give some sort of respite.
He said
karma.
I say
hell,
we’re all headed to
something that’s only half of what we’re here for.
So why not call shotgun while the seat’s open?
I mean if I’m driving, baby, you know that I’m saving it just for you.
As long as you’ve got the alcohol to drown us both in this car to brain [hemorrages].
Or even if you don’t, I think a healthy car crash can help us get one of equal magnitude.
Or maybe you don’t ride because you hate the sight of me.
Shit, even
my dress’s [hem
rages] you because you know it was in yesterday’s paper.
But so was she; I guess you never let that stop you.
Alright, I know I can be a headache whore…
but she’s just a whore that can give you a headache…hemorrage, same difference.
Nahh headache hag. That’s what she is.
Enough about her, I’m so tired of hearing
about it all through whispers
I wish I could see it
come out of your mouth
and hear your tongue say it.
Say that you’re dying.
Is it so wrong for me to wish that you were [miserable]…
[Me? Sir, able] yourself to come with me
to a place where even hell is just some
stupid [halation] around the
societal perception of what a snapshot of Hades’ dirty room looked like.
[Hey, elation], is all relative.
Can’t you see how FUCKING ecstatic I am?
Can’t you see that I wish you were just as FUCKING happy?
Fuck [brackets].
[Break it]. Break it like the bones around your ha-ha-heart.
Besides, I never thought it was aestheticly pleasing to have
white bones
red hearts
blue skin
pink eyes
and black letters
on white screens.
So I’ll save you from
reading this ugly thing any longer.
