116 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
116 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Alongside the stranger in myself
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God, look at this. Such a long day. Long week. Life. Second. Was that a
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second? God, they're too slow. Fuck. Fatigued like I've been at war for
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years, but what have I done recently? I slept 'til 10 today... Shouldn't be
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tired... Damnit. <sigh> But then, maybe I HAVE been at war for years.
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Guerrilla warfare. Gorilla warfare? Manila war fairs? God, so tired. God, SO
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TIRED...
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There's so many of them... People. My adversaries, even when not
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acquainted. I want to talk to her. And him. And that girl who seems to be
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on the verge of tears. And that guy with the bleached-blond hair and the
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Propagandhi shirt. But their heads all look away from me... I just made eye
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contact with that girl, and she looked instantly away - as though put in a
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position she didn't want to be faced with. You! Yeah, you, you bitch! Avoid
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me...what disease do you take me for? No, you're right, I AM a disease.
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Quarrantined like an infested rat. I should go back to the sewers. I live in
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the sewers. My mind...what a fucking septic trammel. Fuck all of this.
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Fuck you, too. Yeah, you. Sure, don't talk to me. But I didn't talk to you.
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You look so beautiful, though. God, I want to talk to you. I want it so
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much. I want to fuck you - no, I just want to talk (fuck!) -- NO! TALK!
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(FUCK!)....<sigh>......If they only knew what I went through. That there
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was a heart inside me just as capable of bleeding as the next...more so,
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perhaps, as how could theirs be as lacerated as mine? They all sit there
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and talk to each other and
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laughsmilewavegiggletalksharespeakgazehugkisslove while I'm over here in
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this dank corner choking on my emaciated emotions and trying not to cry
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with my only companions being my thoughts. If they only understood- They DO
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understand, they don't care. They know all about it. They can read your
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thoughts. They can read your thoughts!
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Fuck you, no they can't. Yes they can. Ohmigod, they can. No they can't.
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FUCKER! You're laughing at me, aren't you? Laughing 'cuz I don't know if
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you can read my mind or not. Laughing at my internal debates you RAT-FIEND!
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FUCKING SHIT-SCUM FUCKER! No, he can't read my thoughts. Neither can she.
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They don't know. Their faces are too placid and naive. No, they're just
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pretending. They all pretend. They're all tricking you, you dumb shit!
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You're swallowing the hook so deep that they'll never get it out!! Dumb
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bastard. What are you doing? Fucker. All of you. All of me! I'm such a
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piece of shit, why don't I die? I don't want to live. I don't want to die.
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I don't want /shut the fuck up! I want it all. I want nothing. Kill me,
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dammit. Fuck me, dammit!
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I want your lips gyrating around my erect and stiff dick. Suck me dry; suck
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out all the pain and emptiness. Make me feel free and good. NO! I just want
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to talk. I want...I don't...know what I want. Fuck me.
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FUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMENO!!!!! I want to talk. Nothing more. I want sex. Just to
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talk. Talk with sex. Walk with Mex. Never been to Mexico...Tex Mex. Tex
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Rex. The Far Side is funny. It sucks sometimes. I want to fuck it. What?
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NO! NONONONONONONOONNONOONONO!!!!!
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STOP IT! STOP! I wish I could just cut that piece of my brain out. That
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little perverse piece that thinks of nothing but sex while observing a girl
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- even when I don't want it. That piece that randomly places the word
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"nigger" into my head when I look at/think about black people even though I
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hate racism. I abhor myself. I am not myself. I have no self.
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I want to fuck myself. THAT MAKES NO SENSE! FOR GOD'S FUCKING SAKE, STOP
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IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No, not for God's sake. God doesn't fuck, there's no need
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for anything to be for the sake of it. For God's sake. He fucks. He fucks
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hard. He wants to fuck you. NO! WHAT? NO! NO NO NO!
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GODDAMMITTNOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!
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And she just looked farther away. She moved her leg out of my field of
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vision, under that chair. She hates me! She can read my thoughts and they
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disgust her and she hates me! But only if I look at her can I read them. No
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all the time. You're always looking at someone, and when they read your
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mind, they communicate telepathically with each other to discuss how much
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they hate you. They hate you. You're a fuck. Fuck you. Me. The bird. That
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tree. STOP RHYMING! Jesusfuckingchrist, why are you doing this? You're me!
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Why am I doing this? Why am I me? Why? What twisted fiend would do this to
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me? Why? Who? How? Fuck.
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Never. Shut up. No one cares. They don't care. Stop bothering them. But I'm
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just thinking it...And they can read my thoughts - shit, they hate me more
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now! More because I'm irritating them with my incessant confusion. They're
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laughing at me! LAUGHING! FUCK YOU. LAUGH AT ME LIKE THAT. FINE. BE LIKE
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THAT! Be like that... Leave me alone to regret myself and pine for arms.
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For soft, gentle, kind but strong arms that can fill the vacuousness and
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dam rivers. And dry rivers out to no more than memory. To fix what they can
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reach, and give me the strength to fix what they cannot.
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Before my mind kills me, someone please extend their hand...
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-agrajag
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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= "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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= FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids =
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= FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** =
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= http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.simunye.com/fuck =
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= http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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