| transmissions_in_vain_and_bacon_smelling_pillows | ||
| soliloGuy |
all this, like a battered sausage whore. "excuse me sir but do you hear that melody?" "i suppose it must be my heart, i apologize, you see i found my soulmate..it's just that i momentarily lost her, she must be reading that book she likes, you know the one where the two lovers finally come together at the end of the novel.." i must have slept for days in and days out, i had not remember where i was and then: the stench. every saturday morning ferdinand prepares eggs and bacon, lots of oil and then the fucker eats them. doesn't even open the kitchen's window. the smell wakes me up, that tasty, oily smell, it makes me feel like i want to die. on my way to the washroom my clothes and virtually everything i own inside that grief-ridden basement smells like fucking bacon. i want to kill him but can't. he is my brother. "did you fix the internet?" i answer "no." "fuck." |
061230 |