It’s Alright, Kid. You Ain’t Fucking Broken

There ain’t no winners at the game of ‘life’.

Those silences are fucking blinding

You know the ones where you woz havin a nice day at the beach until you were informed that ya needed to discuss ya fucking problems in yer relationship n ya just couldn’t fuckin open up cos ya don’t feel fucking anything whatsoever like yer the damn Terminator with anusburgers and cos yer get fucking impatient when someone else starts gettin emotional or they require some kind o’ emotional validation n it ends with this horseshit energy hangin in the air like Darth Vader’s dick n yer sittin in the car sayin meaningless shit like,

Ooh, that’s a big fucking ship

or,

The houses are real Art fucking Deco round here aren’t they, sweetcheeks.

Cos ya just can’t fuckin handle another minute of empty etheric unfathomable intangible mental wave napalm penetrating yer fucking light body.

What was the question again?

Don’t make me repeat it, fucker.

There’s always a standard isn’t there?

That gold standard is always fucking written in the finest ink from the rare Palestinian pipe squid on this…