Ah..
In war,you could jot with your pencil.
And you could portal to the people that you cared about.
I think it was more for the sender than the recipient..
You’re not alone, fighting the god damn Nazis, or the Viet Cong,
War became digital and we learned to creep up on our enemy’s digital nutsack.
Send a flying lawnmower to shred them into pieces..
No letters, no foxhole,
A call, a video conference…
Everything means less, a little each day.
And you can’t possibly be the good guys for two hundred fucking years.
That is highly improbable.
So stop beating your chest.
Stop carrying yourself like a Christian..
Them fuckers poison..
A different flavor than you,,, still delusional.
All I care about…all I’m interested in…is how to stop hating being alive.
Without becoming a full blown junkie.
Which is in my blood…
I’ll come back later,and I’ll cut your throat, or I’ll pat you on the back and be friendly.
If the respect is there..
Which it probably isn’t.
It’s you people.
You are the thing I hate waking up to..
And I’m sure it’s my fault.
So.. I can wait for you to die or I can get the f*** over it.
Or both..
The mouth of the south ⬇️
The South can go fuck itself 🤘
Cracker detox…dry cracker…. fuckin hate you.
dawn 