Why I do not like to visit
I’m far from perfect, open your god damn minds. I’d like to rip apart your skull with bare hands and spit into the polluted pot that you call your conscience. You poison your thoughts with the smut you watch on the television. Every thing the box repeats to you, you soak in and believe that it is real. You believe that it will happen to you. Paranoia and ignorance control your lives. If arrogance was a stick, it would so far up your ass wood pulp would saturate your pores. Dominance, control, you cannot be without it. You live such a meaningless life you insignificant waste of carbon. This is the only way you feel like you are needed and wanted. Live in your polluted ways, contaminate the ones you raise and love, and you’ll never be better than the dirt I walk upon.
I wish you didn’t have a drink in hand in 90% of your pictures. It makes me worry, even though i shouldn’t. I just can’t help but to care.