You didn’t expect a third turd in sequence, maybe the toilet paper was running out maybe you are late for work or late for your funeral and along comes another , you really need your exhaust pipe to be clean today but that old rascal poop is making a sticky mess of things, how about the time you finally got a lovely girl home and that rascal poop decides it’s time for fireworks and explosions , yes that lass soon left the building and preferred to walk ten miles home through rapist county at three am than confront the neutron bomber in his overstained yfronts . When luck is down you see shit all around . How many cunts did I see today , too many, the cunts that park on the pavements because they have to eat cake and park by the big door of the small cake shop, lazy cunts, and all of us pedestrians and prams and wheelchairs have to use the busy road to walk on with its potholes and turds yes I went to the bar, tonight was the saddest evening of all , i drank water for fucks sake and I saw plenty of the bar working folk who hate me , I didn’t talk to them they didn’t acknowledge me , mainly because they weren’t working just socialising but not with worthless old cunts like me. The assassin was working, she said hello then she was dreaming of ways to slaughter me. I was reading some Bukowski, who in turn was reciting a letter he received from a poet in London who was on hard times and couldn’t drink or eat and was fed up with having his liver examined , it was written over 50 years ago , yet I’m not eating or drinking and tomorrow I have my liver examined. Scary shit. Maybe tomorrow I get a death sentence, live to Christmas type sentence , no way back for this miserable cunt , just an escape from all this bullshit. And the girls who hate me . And the assassin. Frozen wrote Bukowski, rigid unmoving uncaring, but no we are on the outside of what the normal people call normal , what us dirty old men call torture routine part of the system. I’m not part of anything, nobody dreams of being with me , nobody is fantasizing over me I’m just another extra in a plotless film which has too many turds in it. Tomorrow will arrive I will hate that , but I can’t love either , the coins in the pinball machine have ran out the credits on the juke box finished , time to go home and crap instead of speaking it.

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