Congratulations

What do you know about Hell you fake-righteous bastard
You come with your insect legs and charcoal ponytail puke and try to tell me how to live
Erasing the bright-clean summer-sensation of the quad with pig-squeals
Your mouth shits out condemning blobs, boring me
You’re the good-kind, right
What does that book say about your drunk-ass household, trying to sound all-things-holy with your cig-burned throat
Ignoring your whiskey-mistake children to sit in your room downloading porn and crying
Wearing your long-sleeves in the damn 90 degree Missouri fucking heat to cover up your arms -
full of holes like a pincushion where you get your fix every morning before chasing me down the sidewalk
Don’t yell at me
Don’t talk to me
Don’t come near me you lying hippie-prick
You are nothing and you will become nothing.  Your future is a welcome-death with a minister-of-pity presiding over a funeral that no one attends
And then Hell
Congratulations asshole