I was a smoke trailing luminescent credit card with sticky hands and an idiot grin weaving through a trail of metallic detritus still popping with the entropic beat of heat torture and abruptly reassessed kinetic desire.

I ate myself with three times the RDA of sodium chloride and no redeeming vitamin content. The grease made my hair such a thing of beauty, that young gay men wept then died of wounds self inflicted with sterilised combs wrapped in trade magazines. Now that's dedication to art.

There were twelve things which I synthesized into a plan to save the world, subservient to my self-actualisation, and I condensed them into the single plan to be confused but rich, filled with the desire and capability to inject well-marketed agendas into soon to be born children and dogs.

I am confused a lot & right now.

I will use that.

We are all confused but fuck I don't want to be all inclusive because then you're an agenda item or stakeholder, and fuck you kindly to hell in the head. Kindly. To hell. Disbelief.

There is a glowing harp string plucking sphere of kindly wonderful Mary Poppins home baked muffin giving neighbourly altruistic beauty in all of us. I just wrapped an extension cord around the neck of mine till it stopped twitching and then spat on it, because I am spam aware. The rest is downloadable for cash. Not really but I'm sure there was some point I was making. Not really.

Sing,
sing a song.

Applaud the beauty of nature, the majestic serial killer lion. Sweet circle of life and its cliques and prom queens. No uranium or its evil by-products shall touch our nature red in tooth and claw. Mice will continue to dream of cats shedding claws from radiation sickness, prior to their life-affirming capture and disembowelment. Bubonic plague enablement through alignment with axis of flea evil - nice ad campaign you furry cute little retards.

I am sure this has already been addressed. File under seeking redress for unsigned contract of mortality and possible limited self-awareness with the capability for crippling self-absorption, and no acknowledgement of extenuating positive outcomes related to being the winning sperm-egg team in the untelevised amazing race.

There are three things, and they grow faster than hate, and.

Love you guys. Gun Fingahs! :)