A Perverted Poet's Confession.

My disease friends, is trying to be clever, trying to speak with a mystic tongue, trying to seduce you with mesmerizing order, trying to use it like a needle dripping narcotics, trying to fuck you, deny it, and even get away with it. Atleast I never claimed to be moral... then again, of that I could never be sure, since I fluctuate and change stance when it suits me-- it's easy that way, I worship the god of laziness, when I find time away from the goddess of my own vain yearning. My latest fad friends, is being brutally honest. Fuck you. Fuck the indians. Fuck bush most of all, he reminds me of a monkey in a suit. Fuck attempting to imitate the soul of other poets spilt milk. Fuck me most of all-- I'm free today, and I will do my best not to suck you dry but don't fucking expect me to succeed or even dare try.