I choose not to partake in them. Blog feuds. Name calling. I've read their comments.
"The Critic is gay" is what they all say. Brash maybe, but you're the puddle of humanity that was offended by it. You stained your skirt.
I know what they are saying. I refuse to respond.
I'm above that. Write about me. I'm not above my ego.
Your socks are wet
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11 comments:
Oh no, my socks are wet! And a stain on my good skirt! I'm off to the cleaners.
I choose not to partake in them. Blog feuds. Name calling.
Horseshit. What do you call that message to Texaco Saves? And the fact that you can't go two hours without trolling my comment section?
I refuse to respond.
I'm above that.
Good to hear. So does this mean you won't comment on my blog any more?
*crosses fingers*
you're the puddle of humanity that was offended by it. You stained your skirt.
How does a puddle wear a skirt? Shit dude, take a writing class.
Very electric on the trees
All sensuous in the water
You invoke black eyes in the spirits
Intense! The evil gets weird
I am grotesque on the fog
I confound glittering signs above the mist
Take cover! The thought shall flee
Very electric on the trees
You grasp colorful bugs over the air
Be watchful. The fun keeps going
opaque awake
fading slowly
a broken promise
In how many places
the other
grow old
unable to stop
Totally splintering beside the spirits
Sinful and violet in the grave
I dream of murky thoughts over the towers
Be aware! The birth continues
So glowing near the earth
You seduce sexy spells above the sea
Awaken! The evil will die
Totally splintering beside the spirits
I prod dull eyes within the towers
Awaken! The thought is no more
alone unseeing
never meeting
a ticking clock
In whose arms
the refugee
look for love
talking to himself
Totally splintering beside the spirits
Sinful and violet in the grave
I dream of murky thoughts over the towers
Be aware! The birth continues
So glowing near the earth
You seduce sexy spells above the sea
Awaken! The evil will die
Totally splintering beside the spirits
I prod dull eyes within the towers
Awaken! The thought is no more
alone unseeing
never meeting
a ticking clock
In whose arms
the refugee
look for love
talking to himself
talking to himself
Anonymous said...
talking to himself
Did you say something?
You stained your skirt.
You took a dump in your pantyhose.
Your socks are wet
Your period is missing
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