People are idiots. They should just go and kill themselves because they are wasting space and oxygen. I admire serial killers now because they're weeding out and you know that we DO need weeding out. There are too many people in this world and too many drooling empty headed mean-spirited jack-asses. They make me want become a cannibal, though they would probably poison me with their idiocy.



Shannon is a fucking liar and should be stabbed in the jaw. Cat needs to lay off hitting on me. I am NOT interested. NOT INTERESTED. Jeff needs to get a fucking stick out of his damn ass and stop all the fucking personal attacks. I hate that fucking guy. Fuck. And what else? Oh yeah, my school is full of shit. They're going to magnatize the fucking doors. What's next? Put collars on us with barcodes. It's not enough that they replaced our names with numbers, they need to take away our freedom too. GREAT.



Other than all of this shit, I'm feeling peachy. Can't wait to go on killing rampage and fucking murder all of those fuckers.





I give up. There is nothing to write anymore.

All the topics are hackneyed, jaded down, and worn

War and love? Reminiscence and past’s undone deeds?

Petty beauty of nature and rain with a kiss?

There’s a flame of red rust, covering these old notions.

Nothing’s coming to mind. Nothing stands anymore.

And no matter how flashy the title might be

In the end it will fall into one category.

So no more. No more topics with pointed dark reason.

From now on, all eccentrics are brothers of mine.

And we’re going to make revolution in writing.

Yes, idea of changing terrifies even me.

But fear not, we are mild, even lazy and tired

So until this fiesta will kick into gear

I will go and write poem about my lost love

Substituting the names with imaginative lies.


@настроение: You're walking on dangerous ground.