I must stop.
I must stop.
I must stop.
Incognito Boy and I should stop blog surfing.
It's either we stop surfing not so anonymous blogs during the morning (it's becoming a creepy ritual) or I'll snap and start posting excerpts from the most grammatically incorrect, misleading, self-serving blogs ever created in blog history.
If only I could smuggle in some pictures to go along with the bad poetry.
I know that some self-righteous pricks would probably say that it's not any of my business. If I don't like what I'm seeing, I should just, well, stop snooping.
Right.Like I'd really care about your rights.
Like this one person, he thinks he writes really good poetry. He writes:
I must stop.
I must stop.
Incognito Boy and I should stop blog surfing.
It's either we stop surfing not so anonymous blogs during the morning (it's becoming a creepy ritual) or I'll snap and start posting excerpts from the most grammatically incorrect, misleading, self-serving blogs ever created in blog history.
If only I could smuggle in some pictures to go along with the bad poetry.
I know that some self-righteous pricks would probably say that it's not any of my business. If I don't like what I'm seeing, I should just, well, stop snooping.
Right.Like I'd really care about your rights.
Like this one person, he thinks he writes really good poetry. He writes:
In the dawn of a good memory
The lightning of your touch
Is pensive
Unreachable.
Stop me.
I'd really like to do you the favor, Señor. I really would.
Or this exceptionally harmful citizen, who looks like a veritable farmhand but is deluded into thinking that he's the greatest thing since buttered toast.
I believe that I can try to be all sorts of things. Like a bird. A cavernous mule.
Light bulb!
Or the deluded girl cum pig cum Star Trek character:
Your hair
Your voice
Bleats to me
Songs of love.
Snapping begins now.
I have got to stop.
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