The Gayest Smoothie Ever
A strawberry and banana did I want, exchange for it the money she did want. She made it good and fine, with a mount of whipped cream atop. But then she added the tell tale sign! As she shook on edible glitter, rainbow sprinkles, all over my smoothie.
“What the fuck?” I wish to say, as she handed me the smoothie so gay, smiling with a knowing grin. But my tongue held, as reality called me out. I returned to my seat and drank it quick, and celebrated the gayest smoothie ever.
A Laughing Ruin
When one makes a plan of such grandeur and importance, Fate giggles with a snide, sinister grin. He reaches into his holy anus, pulls out with gold shining shit in hand, and throws it into the air, so that it may rain down from the sky! Dirtying any blueprints in existence, and seeking eternal amusement, for the consequence of the ruin. And between laughs and piggy snorts, Fate says: “Only I may make what future holds!”
A Secret to Never Tell
I dare not tell him the secret passions of my nature. For many times have I heard, he profess his abhorrence to those who share my passion.
I imagine the manner of his reaction. Will it be his infamous anger? A furious torrent of maledictions. Or a cold and cruel rejection? Lacking a single word.
Infamous is his hurtful wrath and rejection. Stubbornness that has destroyed another: a relation much closer than my own. And not for denunciation of passion, but simply of his own will.
He will attempt to share his grand wisdom, a torture i have endured before. But when the time comes, his endeavor to cure me of my passion, shall mimic disembowelment and castration.
When such offense shall occur, my own temper shall erupt! Words of hate and ire shall exchange between us and never will we ever speak.
I pain and despair against it: the finale of our love. My passion he shall never accept nor ignore nor tolerate. He will choose the ultimate neglect.
I know my own tears shall shed, when the end does curse me its presence. Will he too weep at my absence? Doubt fills me at the thought: him to weep for an abomination.
Though never has a bond of intimacy been shared, I do possess love for him. Pitiful and excruciating shall it be, to lose it over a single thing: a secret to never tell.