The
crAzY sick old woman rants on the phone,
while twirling her hair.
Her son,
growingincreasinglydespondenttotheworldandallit'strifeaslaidoutbeforehimbyhismother,
plots to commit suicide,
by way of electrocution.
Blasphmy is the only true way too paradise he thinks as
he does himself in.
As little Johnny is riding electric waves, little sis
prances about with her doggies all the while feeding
garbage to her ever growing brain bin of sluck.
Reason for writing:
I guess my life ispired me to write this. Which definatly is
pathetic and should make people sick. Almost reminds me of
Frank Zappa lyrics. I don't care, please give me comments,
If I offened anyone I apologize.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Ethan Thomas.