P1929 I'm bleeding from my nose

I'm bleeding from my nose, in full force,

Lurching from crisis to crisis. 

Yesterday I was numb with blood and cum,

I know because I drink my piss.

What are the goals of the gods, 

Why do they fist my asshole so?

The world's increasingly inhospitable, 

Keep running into pimps and their whores.

Life is such a suck, my ass puckered fuck,

Don't feel I've got any blood left.

Trying to come back, the last cigarette pack,

Even wishing requires a lot of heft.

My dick isn't circumscribed, I'm always surprised, 

When girls with tight cunts invite me.

Without a lubricant, a chance however scant,

That it'll be bit off by her cunny.

Wallowing deep in piss, I never meet a miss,

Who has a hole made for my pole.

I believe my luck is totally fucked, 

I'm destined to be a lonely soul.

I'm not a hypochondriac, all the shit's that stuck,

Has a real legitimate dislocated cause. 

Plus the color on my asshole is weird, 

Gods know the color of severe blood loss.

I know that for a fact, I talk to them about that,

The gods know quite a lot about anal piles. 

Their fingers they stick, thick with nivea cream, 

The reason why I'm a guy who never smiles.

 

P1926 I look at my dick

Oh my god, in my ass a red hot rod,

I'll be my own favorite shit stew.

An unexamined shit hole, was never an end goal, 

I live incarcerated in my own mind zoo.

But what the fuck, as I must ask,

The how, the why and the wherefore. 

A mind still young, no new ladder or rung,

Should I stand on the road like a whore?

I don't have any eggs, the question it begs,

I should may be keep trying.

I'll find a tight hole, for my little pole, 

Then all my old songs I'll sing.

I look at my dick, it's healthy and thick,

I like to suck it without any spills.

I've tasted my cum, yummy yum yum,

But the gears to get it up need pills.

I know what's on your mind, I hurry to remind,

I'm not a pituitary misfit. 

It's the girls around me, quite plump and homely,

Something is always dead in their pit.

Plus their cunts are loose, I get confused, 

It's like I'm inside their big yapping mouth. 

So when sometimes I see it fit, in their cunt I shit,

Then run away to hibernate in the colder south. 

And I'm not fond of hairy cunts, I can't say that, so I shan't, 

But you get my drift I hope. 

I've always wanted to fuck fully clothed nuns, 

Wanted to be that desperate loony groping pope.

I'd rather and I've settled to fuck a doll, buying one this fall,

Whose head can be turned all the way around. 

I'll fuck the hole in the twisty head, plastic is always dead,

Nobody would look for her if not found.

 

P1921 Hell is totally cool…

Plunk Plink Plunk 

On a cloud and full of funk.

Can't find my asshole, where is it?

Maybe left it on earth, 

The last time I took a shit.

Plunkity Plunk Plunk.

A creepy bearded guy,

Looks like a hobo, la la lal la laa,

Showing him a finger right now,

Plink, ha ha and fucking ha 

If ambience was my point of concern, I’d go to hell in a heartbeat. I'd like hell, I think; it’s embellished, I've heard, with variety and excitement, torture and trauma. Heaven strikes me as unadorned and clinically bare. The description of heaven begs the question—who designed it? If the answer includes this hobo, then that’s one more reason why I wouldn’t want to stay here. I can see colorful articles of food decorating his beard. Jiminy fucking Cricket, aren't there any decent barbershops here, or a place to take a bath?

Clouds are probably okay for a week, but every day for eternity, now that’s inconceivably and inconveniently boring, almost a contrived punishment. Who would think you’d be punished in heaven? And what about stability? Imagine you get a chance to hobnob with an incredibly sexy angel when the fucking cloud under your feet disappears as rain. 

Haven’t we already suffered all sorts of clouds, having spent an entire lifetime with a sky over our silly heads? Given that, how the holy fuck can clouds entertain us? Creating slight variations of the cloudy day theme? That’s predictably unoriginal when, almost by definition, we're not good at predicting the weather. Looking at clouds from inside an aeroplane is great the first time, but it gets dull on the second ride. Imagine being stuck on a plane forever with nothing but clouds to look at. I say fuck clouds, and while we are at it, and if we get lucky, fuck rainbows.

And what’s with this harp shit? Do I have to take music lessons? What if I don’t want to? Can they kick me out of heaven and send me to hell, or even worse, back to earth?

Anyway, mister god, please hire the decorator who did hell. I mean, all this anally retentive stuff religions have people do throughout their lives and then it shovels them into this cheap motel with some clouds and a father for eternity. Most of us don’t even want to live with our own biological father, or the situational whoever, as the case may be. And eternity sounds like a harmless word, but eternity without variety is far more pernicious than a clear-cut exit.

Heaven's uninspiring. There would be, I'm quite certain, constant attention from gangs of nauseating religious asswipes, no television, and no internet porn. All that is enough to drive a grown man mad. Feminists would be pissed, as I only see shrivelled scrotal sacs with withered schlongs, not even loving men from what I see. And that’s not all. There's a chance I might have to board with the church people. The sort I can’t stand, even when they’re in their formals with their mouths shut. 

I say fuck heaven, let me go to hell, or if I don’t have a choice, go back to earth. At least there's a smartphone and home delivery. Oh, and porn. I wouldn’t be alive without it. Also, I need high-speed internet for porn. It's really a must-have. I like it hardcore. You know, where the girl takes off one piece of clothing at a time and then takes you in her ass.

But I know hell has its share of problems too, mainly allegorically. One theme that seems common across all religions is fire. And there seems to be a lot of fire in hell. It’s a technical requirement. You've got to burn these sinners on the stake, or for lesser fouls, simmer them for eternity. Think about how much fuel would be needed. What would you make of hell if you believed we were causing global fucking warming and assumed hell existed somewhere on the planet?

Also common across most mainstream hells is a CEO character at the helm. Christians call him the devil. He has an amazing job. A bonafide psychopath, he gets paid to be this sick, sadistic pervert. A hefty perk, eternal post, no competitors, and god’s scared stiff because he is the democratic opposite and the balance of power. You wouldn't know what good is without a relative comparison with the bad, and hell is as bad as it gets. The devil is in the driver's seat. Sinners look at him and shit in their pants. Then he burns the motherfuckers, their shit, and their pants and then gets to laugh — "Ha, Ha, and fucking HA!" Hell’s motto is "eternal damnation" with no exit signs. Cool concept. I’d love to be the devil's assistant. It's the best job to aspire to in the whole supernatural universe, and this blog will be my resume.

Plunkity Plinkity Plunk

That's it, that's it, god eats my shit,

Sends me to hell, scratching his ball.

There I find startled back to my sense,

I wasn't dead after all.

Plink Plunk Plonk.

 

P1910 Hackboy

I'll spank your ass with a ping pong bat,

I'll use your asshole to keep spare balls.

Every nightmare you lose a match,

I chase you naked through strange halls.

I'll hack your guts, I'll crush your nuts, 

I'll make sure you're never a dad. 

Look at my balls, tremble and fall,

I'm hackboy - the scantily clad.

I program bugs, but I appear deeply smug, 

I want to control software from home. 

In every layer of fat, I've hidden smelly rats,

That will start gnawing at your bone.

I like to look at girls, wearing pinkish pearls,

I wonder why they never look at me!

I'll sit on top of them, flattened vector planes, 

I'll force them to drink my pee.

What's that girl I see, blonde and kind of short, 

I want to please fuck her ass.

I'll eat all her shit, do what she thinks is fit,

Dance a jig with vodka in a glass.

Oy, my farts are warm, they do no harm,

I like to sit on a chair heated with it. 

The company where I work badly sucks ass, 

Their product is a box full of shit.

P1903 I stepped on shit

I stepped on shit, I think this is really it,

The country to call my home,

Here I'll shit, in people's mouth I'll piss,

They'll gargle it into a foam. 

I'll be the leader of the land, I have planned, 

I'll fuck every asshole I meet.

If they don't accept my dick, they'll be sorry sick, 

And forced to eat my shit.

The cymbals will drive their earwax out,

Deafness for the fuck nuts. 

I'll skin their foreskin with a knife,

And shove it in their butts.

Haven't pissed for days,

A bladder full of frothy piss. 

When the smell makes them retch,

I'll push them into the abyss. 

I'd murder at will, guts I'll spill, 

Drive them to below a living wage.

I'll fuck their kids, auction them for bids,

Put them in a revolving cage.

It'll feel good, feed them my shit for food,

It'll make the fucks dull even more.

The guys will lose their spine, become asinine, 

The girls made into harem whores.