| eat my mansnack | by marasmus |
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i'm not stile - there ain't no death going on... Dysfunction has just grown to a new level. I can sit around, do absolutely fucking nothing at all, sleep all day, eat nothing, and listen to mad tunes at stupid times.. fuck with my guitar, slap my nuts, all the good shit... i do need to pay my DSL bill though, cause otherwise my laziness will be violently interrupted.
people have problems. most of these problems have to do with the fact that they're dishonest little shits. not even shits. they're like the clingons from the after-shit. i really don't get this whole honesty issue. it's like a massive fucking game of saving-face tag. what the fuck is there to give a fuck about? i certainly don't give a muthafuck, otherwise i wouldn't be talking fecal matter out of my face right now. but seriously.. what is the fuckin issue with people just fucking existing? if someone wants to know how the fuck i feel about something, i ain't got no issues lettin' them know what's up. no saving face. no kiss-your-pucker sweet talk. truth. fuckin honesty. simplicity. take it. it entirely doesn't matter if you're the whitest little richy fuck G on the block with your nissan pickup... you get the same fuckin opinion my parents get, or the hooker struttin her stank on the corner. eat shit. we're all humans and we all end up in the same fuckin dirt. everyone can pleasantly die to the grind of some caq in j00r mouf. | |