(The Ballad of) Maria and Tin

I am a hex in hyperspace. Unabashed quadcore. Stop listening to my late night drivel of pro-socialist diatribes.

But hark! Here’s to the both of you!
Embed me – then I’ll embed you.
Here are my fancy words – rich and eloquent – and they mean nothing at all.
But let’s pretend that they do and at least it’s for you. More than I can give to most people bastardized by time and age and Mother Earth and Father Sky.
Literary confines be damned! Literary jerks, purists, sellouts, professors, scientists, hobby fuckers be damned!

And we damn them all to hell.

This is yours, to the both of you, as well as mine. Neither a song nor a poem, neither a literary piece. No, not at all. Just words and drivel and fragments. Because boredom, along with revenge, is best served with words.
(I rather not dispense bullets into heads for the benefit of all)
Promising intentions, darlings. And from some junkie motherfucker made out to be like he’s angry with every goddamn situation, wouldn’t you feel fucking special?

So here’s to you Maria.
Cheers.
And to you too, smoke quitter Tin.
Cheers as well.

Also, to me. For being bored and a fuck up at best and above everything else.

Hey at least we’re not a bunch of silly cubeheads twirling around boxes. At least we could masquerade as intellectuals late at night… amirite?

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