the confession of a dead man

I have no time in this short life of mine to amuse these fucking peacocks.

Little spread eagle girls and blow hard poets, running a death marathon to ensure

the idea

that they will be sealed inside of a grand golden immortal casket.

I have no time for these death/mirror mongers.

television and plastic surgery.

John F. Kennedy ripping a rail of coke off of Marilyn's titties.

Welcome to America!

Where the fuck did I put my gun?

You are all a bunch of fucking monkeys.

I once believed in the concept of inner beauty.

I once believed I owed some kind of debt to that abstract thing we all collectively know

as KARMA.

And now... I look across this watered down waste land we are apart of...we have created...

and I am here to tell you...

Karma is a fucking whore selling her pussy on the corner for 20 bucks a pop.

trust me. I spent 40 on the bitch last night...

Karma owes me 25 years.

The shallow cunt.

I will take each aborted fetus she has had sucked out in between those foul legs

and dip them into my wine before I consume.

This is the blood of Christ.

Shed onto you...


Sinner.