Doubling Down on Anger

I am angry not because it’s the first step in any program but because no one is honest about who they are. Not one of us. The pandemic has made this clear.

After all of the drivel about finding oneself in the quiet of the lockdown – talk which lasted all of three days – the only thing that anyone did was consume and bitch and consume and consume and consume.

Worth saving? Why? We are fucked. And good riddance to us. Btw, I have a book about that, called Anori. It’s about leaving this planet so we go fuck up another one.

The Morning Commute

Your pants don’t match your jacket. And there’s something wrong with your shoes. Don’t look at me that way, you damn honky shit. I don’t have to put up with your shit. I ain’t your nigger. I ain’t my grandmother slaving for you in Brazil, you ugly motherfucker.

You chose the wrong bitch to fuck with, you know that? You got a death wish or something, fucking with me? You got satan in your head. No way I would ever fuck your disgusting white ass. Your little baby dick ain’t nothing. Just try swinging that thing beside a nigger or spick dick. And you know I wouldn’t let any of those dicks cum on my face.

You think I’m going to let you give me your slavery bullshit? You fucking with the wrong nigger, you bitch ass bitch. You going to fuck with me, I’m going fuck you up dead. You hear what I’m saying, you satan fuck ass-white bitch? I’m going to fuck you up bad.*

*The reply to me asking someone to put their mask on in the subway at 6:15 am.