Be wise.
Do not attempt to invade the realm of the loser.
His claws are sharp, his poison instant. Not.
He is a cat, the king of procrastinators.
Because he cannot take any more of your sh*t.
Clad in faded blue paper, he seems worn out.
He is focusing on the words dancing in the air, before his eyes.
It is the only available entertainment.
He cannot eat the flies. Nobody does that in his town.
Occasionally he writes, to prevent feeling useless, a waste of resources.
But his friends are his secret rivals.
He feels 5.
The greatest fear lurks under his bed,
He cannot let them show that they’re better.
Today he bought cold coffee, and tomorrow he will do the same.
But by whom was the wallpaper torn?
He is still trying to expand his vocabulary.
Will they come? If yes, when? Everything has disappeared.
THE BLACK HOLE IS A CREATURE OF FLESH AND BLOOD.
It feeds on things. It feeds on you.
No time for delay. SCREAM god dammit, SCREAM
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