filth.

yuuuuup.
neighbors,
left to my own devices,
i will always choose the wrench.
hard styles and dirty burgers are what's up.
when's the last time you were disgusted with yourself?
a better question would be:
when was the last time i wasn't?
feast your faces on this teleportational activation-
check it:

terra cotta colored cut-off wieners?
uh-huh.
double fatty-boombattie veggie patties?
sure.
hummus to cement that sh!t in place?
that's doo-doo buttery mortar for this building block
of protein power and dietary fiber and that, y'all.
c'mon.
fancy-boy sprouts because i'm gay,
(we call 'em ma nature's pubes over here, son, what!!)
chipotle hot sauce because i'm expert,
and i like that hot smoky fire spit dripping down, around,
and in between my fake meat.
(that's what she said?)
and those new diet-mom-type thin buns
...because i'm anorexic.
wooooooooooord.
sustenance shouldn't always be uplifting.
i'm scratchin' and surviving.
thriving, however,
is an overestimation of my success.
striving, on the other other hand,
is where i'm always at.
y'heard?
why do i do it, duders?
i'm building up an immunity to iocane powder.
you like it;
never quiet, never soft.....