This be WILBER ...bitches

With tests of irony for dummies so perplexing nowdays, i find it redundant how fecal we've become. I mean, with the linguistic nastalgia of all civilization innundated to replentish our sources of mal-nutrition, YOU WOULD THINK that we would figure out not to shit in our  own pool. Yet though the human species being so devine in origin, is utterly... a dumbass. have the respectable trades all gone out the window along with my dignity and honor, or is your toothbrush just  to damn big for your face. whore.. At times, i find myself fighting for something that not even I know exists, but merely for cause. May action never take place, change would never occur. And without change we have lack of hope. and without lack of hope, i shit myself daily. Some readers right now will be saying to themselves, this makes no sense. Well hit yourself in the forhead while standing upside down getting raped by a pogo stick. NOW, it doesn't makes sense. gay hater.  I sit befudled with all the lies and magic that you've tried to instile in me from birth. I refuse to be unchanged to the random demographic and societal standards that you have laid forth for donkey in blue pastures. You completely and utterly deplete me. You ask for change so I give you  a turd inside of a diamond. And you slap me? You spit upon the very fear I have too. HAve you no concious? Have you no shame.  I can tell with these passing months of knowing you, that you increasingly sag, and wobble like a tree in weatherd soil. Do you know I watch you at night? Or when I put you in the tub. Why can you not accept me for not who i am, but for who i'm NOt. I am not what i was, for who that was, was who they were, and we are not happy with the way this is going so i said STOP. stop the madness. stop the chiming of bells so loud I can't hear myself think. But you hear my thoughts. How gay. How gay to gay that we gay on a. we've done that one before. Oh. damnit.  How I love thee I guess i should say. Wilber, is inlove wiht himself. BUt that would make us a narscicist, and we can't very well compete with ourselves. But the TRAP. WE do my fien featherd friends. We compete against ourselves every day. CAll it id, call it mortality, call it human nature. WE are competitive. I don't want to own you, i dont want to like you, hell i don't want to even be around you. And that's why I do. I want to strip you of your natural feel and color, and paint you a new shade or orange. Fior orange makes me sad. I like being sad. I jsut wanted to say. I love you....


Chair.