These are my purest moments of honesty.
I sincerely wonder if I'd miss you humans.
Chasing fairies' tails with a fast car you know eeeeeeeverything about.
Kill yourself. Haha.
I would've taken my own pill long ago,
except I know it'll be a hell of a show.
I never have tired of watching a toilet flush.
It'd be the first time I'd applaud it though.
I'd laugh, but... Haha, oh well.
For all pokers and pushers, I speak in the present.
That which does not exist, I speak within and of.
I cherish my cynicism. I'm in love with my disdain.
I reject. I entertain myself.
I'm asking and answering all my questions,
and it feels so fucking good, you have no idea.
A smile is no mask for my ignorance of your staggering imbecility.
Just thought I'd let ya know... I may still be plotting your demise.
YES! Come to me, my little haggots!
You keep my kingdom buzzing; you put ants to shame.
Though I'm a bit superstitious, I think my encryption will dodge all bullets.
You may have to run for your pulsating lilliputian deities.
You may not have permission anymore. Don't yell at me, I just work here.
Oh, the fucking temptation of mediocrity!
Oh, the allure of vanilla fucking cunts!
Guess what? Fuck ALL of you. You don't know who you are.
If I have my way, you never will.
*poof* *snip, snip* Aaaalll gone.
*single tear* I'll miss you. Pphh.
Eh, but why stop reminding myself I'm alive?
After all, not knowing is half the fun.
Just let me know when to take my foot out of the door.
Of course, that's assuming I still trust you.
Is a cartoon grin really your best disguise?
Burying your identity with a bouquet of insecurity.
We can giggle all fucking night!
Jacks without boxes praising anonymity and idiocy.
Isn't this life defined? Isn't this life lived?
Nevermind communication, comprehension; this is rapture.
Significance is irrelevant.
Who is this poor little girl out in the poor little world?
Wearing a t-shirt that says she's interesting.
The truth is in the tits, bitch.
Searching for the peacock to her replicunt.
She's written down all her answers 100 times.
Can anyone hear this trumpet when I stand on this soapbox?
Or are you still waiting for dick jokes?
"Oh sweet rapist eyes, look what you've done to me."
Hovering hypnotically through stygian channels.
Aurora on hold; our own nowhere, doing nothing.
So far yet so close; such lunacy entices.
Tickled pink but neither ticklish.
Carefully selecting words I don't need.
Swaying in blacklight, a glance tells all.
Or simply enough for now.
All in good time.
I am.
You are not.
Go home.