featuring your broken skin

He used to get chased around some shitty town with lots of corn and other forms of nuclear waste. Then he grew up and moved to the city. Now people call him by a different name.

He met some creepy fiends and lost some crumby friends. But he never lost sight of his dreams. His love for filthy creatures would get him into trouble.
But he never lost sight of what was really important.
It's a tragic story. It's not filled with heroism or dark mysteries. It's flat lined potential covered in a week of frustration and failure. It's not about coming of age or learning your place in the world. It has no path to tread or road to wander from. It is no longer of importance. It will wither and fade. It's blossom has sprung forth for the last season and will flourish no more. These are the "truths" that ravage the forefront of our thoughts and punish our inquisitions with implied morality and falsities. A king is only a king until crown begins to rust. A moral choice is the righteous choice. A political thought will get U.S. lost.


FYBS said...

Is that supposed to be grimace on the cup? Tell me you're not that butt-hurt.

ETC said...

Now don't get me wrong, I support the purple shirt... but that dont mean yaint gun b called Barney... or Grimace. Own up.

(also, notice the "Mudflap"... thats like, you, in picture form)

Internet Poetry said...


FYBS said...

Just because I have the sexual confidence, and testicular fortitude to be able to rock a purple shirt and not be bothered by the cries of "Grimace" doesn't mean that you need to spend the time you spent to write out that post. You have much better things to do, I'm sure. Like moving to O-town.

FYBS said...

... or having another butt-chug??

ETC said...