Discussion in 'Spam' started by .silence., Mar 26, 2013.
...of consciousness today. Holy fucking shit I'm tired.
A poem by areben:
Your flux is fuxed
But do not fear
Ghost's fux is more fluxed
and he's a deer
(my best work ever)
Ode to wheelie chair;
Nobody can hear you let rip;
Silent, deadly farts.
The moonlight shines on your pretty face
I try to rhyme while staring into space.
I had more lines before I got started,
Lines with grace, but then I farted.
This one time... at Band camp.... Wicked put that shit on his balls.
Separate names with a comma.