Saturday, September 1, 2007

This is a poem titled "I am swewling mouthgful of rabbits into your face"



ghis is what I'm thinmoinmhg in my paranoid thoughts. I'am undoubtedly fucked up beyond your comprehwnsion of what are thge possiblities of what is possible of the human condition of possib;lity. IAM WHAT FORDSAKENS THE SOUL OF WHAT YOU ALWAYSIMAGINED IN YOUR MIND. bUT IT'S MLORE TYAN THAT. i TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHATYOUR MINMD THINKS. wITUYOT THE REAONISIBLIY OF WHAT YOU SEE ID THE MOST IMPORTANT THIUMNHG. This is me when I'm drunk and intoxicated. shit balls of faoth and these cocepts which bind isd bin attachmnents shitheals of gaads. OR i HAD A KLITTL MARIJANS ANDTHN SURRUCUMS AD AND NTHEN D. iN THE MOMENT THE MOMENT OF THE unicorns, I am swewling a mouthgful of rabbits into your face, the uyoung fludfyy kind, etinhg away atn your feeble attemps of loving gumdropd s anfd gfabva benas from some cult cl;assic . I want to devastate your every cavity with more of m,y shit and piss thatnn you've everb been able to fathom ypou fucking pircfe olf shir scoundrel nitherfucmimg call me , call me, AND YOUINMWILL ALWAYDS nvere undettsnd therxe practical jokes aBOUT SQUIDS AND PRACTRICALITY AND MORALITIS ISSUES, AND ASNY OTHER STUPID SHIT NLIKE WHATN i'M TRYING TO CONVEY WHEN i SPRAKMTO YOU.



2 comments:

Robert said...

I wish I wrote this serious poem.

Sabra Embury said...

You can write your own, but you have to get very fucked up before you do it. You have to drink so much that you feel like the opposite of getting out of your brain is happening, like magnifications on the mundane. Pot helps with this. That's why I hate pot. It's gross and makes me think like shit.

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