(( aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh))

‘I hate everything’ is not a refreshing statement anymore
but for the sake of faithful frustration
I’m pretty sure that’s my exact opinion.
I slink closer to suicide halfway inside
a packet of butterscotch cookies.
Can we please lean against post boxes and estimate the percentage
of mirthless correspondence fluttering under envelopes. This 
would not seduce my bad mood,
but it would prove us to be true misanthropes.