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Dear Core
Hi Core,
I know you are eating live babies for dinner on your romantic outings to the sausage factory, but why do you feel you need to be the thing that wasn't in fact there the first time it happened after it wasn't actually there in the first place? For what reasons do you justify these magnificiently bowel like frequencies coming out of your e-penises? Why do I need to throw up on top of the pops Hip hop, the music we hear over & over again making us raise our bums to the drum & then bar-rump-ba-bump-bum it whilst ramming Paris Hilton magazines up our poopers? Can we not make peace with ourselves when driving down a highway the morning we forgot to put on pants? Why did we not where the good brown undies with the back breath hole & the weird coloured stain in the front camel toe? I feel so angry, cheated, lactated & googled that I was cheated that day. Where art thou good brown undies?
Anyhow, you all stink.
Lots of love from
Xeno.
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