Posted on

From a phone.

Fuck my writing fuck

My music i am actually asking

Cunts if they want to play with me

Its all fucked fuck me fuck all fuck

Life and goddamn All that is its

A piss poor race to a shit end

Not a friend but one that has pity

Fuck this city fuck sleater kinney

Fuck the cuties that dont look back at me

Fuck this blog fuck me fuck all that i dreamed

To be fuck the man i cant be and the death

Fuck life fuck jobs fuck fake friends i want to

Start over be the to laugh at weak cries that come

From me now everyone is a cunt fake caring nothing

Of now that only speaks their shit cause it is a mirror

For everyone to look good in fuck fuck fuck i cant seem to get luck in doing shame becauase im a good lay but ill cry when you dont stay in the morning though im really just a fakevi only wanted last taken picture to put in my bank the view from behind of fucking you straight through lunch see a sick fuck just your luck.

Im a miserable lonely no good piece of fucking shit

I wish i wasnt such a pussy and could just blow my head off. Regardless im not going to be around much longer. Something

Break down. Fight. Jail. You pick. Quit it all. Im a piece of shit. What happened to me? Fuck me. Goddammit. Fuck me.

About Brian Anthony Hardie

artist, musician, and poet from Portland, Oregon.

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