Sunday, 10 February 2008

Pu`u `O`o, SUCKER.

Your salad has athlete's foot, I'm satisfied to note. A moment of sheer existent blankness, you turn and use speech to hurt a lack. I see blooming though now and just freshly awakened am ready for drying eyes. The insurgents are not a tenth as jealous of you as you are of them. You will not die wearing green silk, emo scum.

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