Warning!

Warning. The following publications may induce intense reasoning.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Fap The Years Away

'Cause nothing matters anyways,
Your life will end in misery
Just as it is right now already,
You will bleed and cry to me

Fap the years away, away
Hands on toys and silly shticks
No one else will do it too
Me and you, just me and you




Don't you work on yourself
Don't be better than the rest
You are scum and nothing right
You're alone with no one else

Fap the years away, away
Lose your hair, your tan turns gray
Getting fat is what you do
You just ain't got shit to gain

Death's a fan of fucks like you
Climax is an empty word to you
You don't smile, no can do

So fap the years away and cry
Fap the years away then die.


Monday, February 23, 2015

Thirsty Girl, Lucid Guy

Direl [DEE-REL] smiled at the guy, but he did not notice. It happens sometimes. Ever since she started hitting on guys, and feeling okay with them rejecting her, or worse - mocking her, she noticed these sort of different behaviors. Some guys were aloof. Oblivious. It was not that they were mean, or anything like that. They just did not notice what other people considered obvious.

Take this guy. He was looking at her, for that moment, but when she smiled, he just looked away. Talking with his friend there, at the bar.



Direl sipped her beer.

"You're staring," Jen said and smirked at her.

"So what?"

"It's rude."

"Who cares? I'm bored of being polite. Everyone's so fucking shitty polite, all the time."

"So you're just going to be rude?"

"To you?"

"Not to me," she laughed, "to the guy!" Jen looked over at the two guys over at the bar. Both were deep in conversation. "Wanna hit on them?"

"Yes." She smiled, and both girls stood up, and went to approach the guys.


"But, if it's not aliens, then what is it? Some secret society? I'm just saying...." Kevin paused mid-sentence, and turned to look at the girls, now standing over them. Clarke turned as well, looking at Jen first, making Direl angry with him.

"Hi," Direl said, and forced up a smile at Clarke. "I'm Direl, and this is my friend Jennifer. Mind if we join you?"

"Sure, go ahead," Kevin said smiling pleasantly.

The girls looked at each other in agreement, and each sat next to one of the guys, tactically surrounding them, and setting their drinks on the bar table.

"How old are you?" Direl asked, looking at Clarke, but then - wanting to be friendly, glanced at Kevin as well.

"Ah, I'm twenty seven, and Kevin just turned twenty eight. And you?"

"I am twenty eight," Direl said.

"And I am the same, twenty eight," Jen added.

The guys turned to look from one girl to the other.

"Good," Jen said and smiled, "we're a match!" And she laughed, sipping on her mug.

They were not actually a match, it turned out, but ever since that night, Jen stopped complaining about Direl being so forward with guys. Hey, it works.


Friday, February 6, 2015

Anarchic Poetry


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Slap the master,
Lose the arm.
Beg the master,
Lose the word.
Follow the master,
Lose direction.
Obey the master,
And lose all hope.

Modern poetry is so passe.
Roger Chouinard for The Chronicle (Click on Picture)

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