The End Of Opuss Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, There was a man who lived with his cats. Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, the man and his many many cats. One day the poor man said, cats I can't afford to feed. One day the old man said, cats just wait and see. I'll find you an owner so fair and wise! He'll give you fish, and bring you wine. Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, There was a man who left his cats. Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, The man who bought the cats. One day the newfound owner, came and wanted to see. One day the happy owner, came and they wanted to feed. All of the cats, they sat waiting for a treat. To all of the cats he said: you're going to be in need. The cats sat and whispered very very long. They thought they were told, they'd be well-fed all day long. But mr. Owner said he was poor, he hadn't a single dime. Mr. Owner said he'd found people who'd pay to see them die. But not before I fuck you. No, not before I fuck you, harder every time. Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, people came to see. Once upon a time in the land of Opuss, cats were going to bleed. Up, up your anus, I'll punch my angry fist. Up, up your anus. Don't you dare to fail this test. Else, and dove. You are going first. Come on. Get fucked. I will kill you first. Hooray hooray for the cats who died, oh that weary day. Hooray hooray for the he slayed on that bloody day. These cats were pretty, and these cats were cute. These cats heads splattered on the old mans boot. We wish for him a painful death. The old man has to die! We wish for him a painful death. The old man has to die!

Boredom I feel... Fine. That's what I was about to say. I think... Well I do think a lot if I must say. I... That's a letter. Don't wear it out. I... I have so many things to figure out. ... Those are three dots. They're editors picks. ... And that makes six. That one was just for kicks. I'm bored. I'm gonna go to a store. I'll get a mac. I'm gonna do a hack. Because I'm bored, I'll record a song, and not release it. Because I'm bored, I'll write a #poem, and not give a shit about it.

Question Where do I reside? In the corner of your eye. What do I bleed? The answer is too sweet. I lack form and function, because I am the notion, of something profoundly simple, yet so often overlooked by people. I share the mystery of lightning, but I don't live in the sky. I live in your eye. To most people I become invisible, Though I am so detestable. You'll scrape and yank, just to get me out. You'll try your best to forget, but you can't let me out. I am a symbol, a line. I am a distraction, not a crime. No one knows me.

Blues And Red Boxes Little boxes of the rarest kind. Little boxes made of plastic. Great pleasures in little boxes you may find. Great pain also is in there to find. Little boxes are so pragmatic. Little boxes could be fantastic. Leave me here in my box so rare. Put a label on it that says "this one is mad".

I'm Sick.. My principal writing me, just to check if I'm alright. My teachers pitying me, just because I'm not right. I hate myself. My girlfriend losing patience, When I break down again. My family losing their minds, When they see my teary face again. I hate myself. Why do I never quite fit in? Why is it always me who has to repent. Why does my heart never quite belong. Why is it always me who feels so bad. I'm sick. I'm not like them; They're healthy. I'm sick.