reflective nothingness from the rectums of a thousand monkeys with typewriters

so ten peeps read it? so fekn wot? I know Im a pessimist, hell, I know im a narsisistic nihilsist, I make up werds, i make up spelling, a horse, a woman, both of them u ride,ur breakin my balls...  so fekn wot? Im a tattoo artist, I do dragons n all sortsa shit, this blog shouldnt make u think, thinking is dangerous and in most cases stupid, I paint, pix of jesus as a robot,  all sortsa shit, u dont know me, mebe u know me a bit, but for all the spying u do, fek ya, ya dont know me, I haves a new gal every week, Im not gay, not even Bi, I just suck at relationships, Im a narsissus, I make up spelling, im into kama sutra, tantra, pissing, spanking  all sortsa shit, go ahead,tell my momma, think i give a fuck? All this liberal proto fascist cancer u call common sense, get faaarked, we can worship wot we want, i dont love Jesus, I cant stand him, Im into islam, zen buddhism, i was a scentolojist for a while, but that is the most dogs dick suckin religion ever, its fekn orrible... so before u talk / act like u know me, shut the hell up and relate. fettucine is good for wot ails ya!

Donkey Cockism, the grey stench of gorings armpit

Classy Blog eh? Mind mush mutates metaphisically, a polymorphic entity absorbed thru the walls of the subconscious inner self, fettucine is great for wot ails ya, despotik nuerotoxins jab the epicentre of muscular entropy, nobody ever gave me good advice, nobody ever raised me to believe in a weird paradox, Where would christianity be if jesus got 15 years with the possibility of 8 with good behaviour? Christianity is sick, a cosmic Jihad on a race of mathematicians, the worms feast on the flesh of a dying breed, too crazy to be reborn , to shallow to die.... the rhythms of old mother earth, bouncing a backbeat, jibbering, jiving, spinning James Brown in his grave, the everpresent nothingness of possibillity, mother earth, aborting the human foetus one ciggarette at a time... where will it end?

are u drinkin with me jesus?

are ya drinkin with me jesus?, who wouldnt ask that question? & who wouldnt be tempted to kick his ass, as blasphomus as it may be, who would walk away victorious? does jesus know martial arts? would he start shiverin and piss his pants? would he have some great psycological grasp on the scenario, impervious to danger & talk his way out? If u kicked jesuss ass, what would that make u? megamessiah?
pc cunts, klingon punks feck off!, I love my bushpig mossad.... rock rock rock n roll jonestown.....
all this unchristian stuff makes me horny, with no love for sports, no chance of christian salvation, the worm turns, alpha and omega, an apertite for chinese technocracy, a complete lack of grammar and speling , since me graduated with a degree in surgery, music & psycology, im still a daredevil, still 666% exterminus blood sport, hippie rednek, anyways, fuck literacy, my year 12 english teacher couldnt read, & she expelled me for reefer, sometin ive since stopped smoking,no more weed, just pussy... im a secret agent, lady ( a loner dotty, a rebel) nashville dont want me, i just wanna poontango.... wang dang....how would jeusus fite? i'd just pull his robe over his head & stomp him, if i was ten years younger, now days id just buy him a middy of vb & spew in his lap.... klingon punks feck off!

we need to stop thinkin' keep drinkin

heartbreak, the word rolls off tongue, like a clover or somethin that rolls better than aforementioned thang, the apparatus, built to fly, wings a mess of mesh and broken dreams,chilli sauce in the eye, reminiscant of the maceing he recieved by his buddys fiance at the perfume counter of a big-ass department store, the eyes twitching, bemusement at the non-lethal excrement fired into the iris like napalm on a gook baby, how long will this dream take to become a reality?, syphoning emotions, the dark recesses of the soul, churning like so much butter, homogensied, like a def doctor eating the magnaplasm, directing the absurd abcess of procreation thru the wings of an angel, as the sun sets over las angeles, the darkness decends on motor city, detroit rejects the infant soul, too innocent to ride the rapids, dark storm clouds decending over the oblique parasites, worming thru lethargic love loss, from a soul too evil to be reborn in hell, born into the self righteous, yet eccumenical hypocritical christ like ambition, the forces of nature set about to relive and rebirth the mescaline soaked soul, giant cockroaches gnaw at the deafening cacophany of explicit, mangled detriment, hallucinations, determined to envelope reality, the fine line between desperation & empathy reborn in satan or buddha or allah, however the son of darkness appears, the referee despises the iconiclapse, intimate rejection far flung from eternity, exposes the intermitant descecration of the holy spirit, Momma, why dont u love me?