(missed erection)

My brain is a rusty hatchet dulled with patience and two centuries of listening to the hegemonics shift around me.

Oh fuck the magniloquence, i feel stabby. very fucking stabby because like most americans (letting the blanket spread as far as my worldly travels [excluding, of course, ireland and canada who've got their own thing going] in a sense of fairness surprising when it's already so dark outside) i work a futile job serving megalomaniacs of all shapes and sizes of ego.

And on a friday when i could be banging my head to the terrors of pig destroyer i'm sitting in an office while old white man muse over how best to hock the benefits of insurance.

Oh lord could i stab a motherfucker right now.



Stab.



Stab.



Stab.

And i am no violent man. i may talk a lot of nonsense and dream the world into a flurry of unfathomable bloodshed, but really i'd never hurt a fucking...ARRRRGGGGGGGRRRAAAAAUUURRRGGHHH!!!!

STABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTAB

Like a blind man with something to prove to a room full of fat bastards huffing and prostrate as his mind snaps in two at the vision of existential hell he can't even produce which only fuels his stabbing rage until there's nothing left but piles and piles of sweating mounds of bloodied flesh and fat - real fat - sweet oozing pounds of fat that he can smell and taste and hear giving way under his feet and his so fucking satisfied at his one act of great prejudice that he imagines, somehow, that maybe he really can see the workings of his devil's hands.

Stab.