I'm all for self revelation,
and the joy of an internet connection,
but give me a fucking break.
Apologies I won't give for those who represent,
all that it entails.
Rotting entrails for dinner I would be glad to consume,
before I'm locked in-
hand over fist,
for something so fucking ridiculous.
Look at my picture...
sure that's cool.
Suppose I had to choose the best part-
It would be the music,
while I peruse through all the glittery compost.
I'm a leo-pisces-cancer,
or perhaps a dumb-shit disaster,
painting my bio with lies and deceit.
Make no mistake,
for one month I was tied to it's cosmetic dysfunction.
I suppose it's the put-your-friends in some number line simplicity.
It's crazy to think even if I posted my momentary mood,
that by the time Tom read it,
it would still be present.
Fuck Tom.
Period.
*thanks for the rant*
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