Fuck Poetry


    To fart, as an expression, what a wonderful thing, the appropriate response, to so much bullshit, ideas like trash filling the mind, just passing air, let it out, queef, fart, along the sequence, next, next, so much of it is unnecessary, blank spaces would be better, but unfortunately we must exist, somewhere along the sequence, we''re doing something, sitting, walking, always escaping, even laziness breeds sin, seeds are scattered, and the cookie crumbles, wrong no matter where we are, just hold on, is there a signpost, look for directions, do you have a compass, this quagmire of bullshit, do you know the way, some greater power, it tries to align it all, into a cohesive story, according to fate, and the echo of truth, the branch continues to extend, why, who knows, ask your father, please destroy it, wait three business eternities, ask management, we’re all born innocent, each ghost passing through hell’s gates, if I could look back and say it, I’d spit it in your face, and lick your lips, live, laugh, love, did I really want this…This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.