Ask iAN

Online Spiritual Tech Support

The subject matter is not suitable for some children, nor is it intended for adults ages 18 and over.
While visiting 'Ask Ian' we ask participants to please refrain from using discretion, as it will only make matters worse.

Repetition and Burn

Photobucket

The bullies, the lying lovers, the lost alcoholique bosses, the seekers of shame, dyslexique retribute and vengence...different mask the lot of 'em...but the same old
song, violence, and savage ending...makes an outsider, drowzy, nappy and happy to know they've shuffled off.  Yet just like ghost..mingled with sperm, they keep on comin' back in different form...
Some come on crotch rockets
other's in electroniqe baseball hats
some in 60's fleur dresses
some ...well...some just waitin' in the Lou Reed chinese alleyway...to suck ya' peter...like a New Yark fooze'baller...high on pee'nut buttah', rubbin' they scratchy
ice cream cone telephonitus noses...like cocks without skin around the bellend...

It's hard to stay interested in these sketchy everlast centurion mugshots...a bunch a spastique hosers...limp fisted drag asses...puttin' money on the dead asses that they kiss...worse than a re'run of 3's company while on tits, squib, ludes and candybars....i know all them huge reptiles died...but now we're stuck...for 100 years...with a bunch ah meatball chuggin' thugs who worship the pussy hairs that have been earlier sprayed...by some sausage from the Bronx named Amphibio...it's a lower afro of tangled shame...not to mention...ain't no rubbin' alcohol for the gawd-damned jaw and no Q-Tips for tah brush ya teeths cleanz...shat, shit...lower Manhatten...and the skinny chicks all gettin' fat in...that land of hoboken, dokken'esque hall of fame shame.....lackluster hustlers and tittie fanatiques....it's all belly'arsed gruesome, buddy.

I don't give two tits about your octopus or your crabcakes or your birthday reliques and your hipstimatic gringo groin shots...I just want out, dig?

oil up my fuckun'ride and gimme a bottle ah coca cola, ya fuckun' yon smoker....

I need out...

keep your mud arsed bumble bee bath warmin' yer clap

I got jet...like the first born mirror...the reflection of Christ in a whore's eye

i gotta split....

Goin' to the twin cities of two moist pink coins made of Ophelia's junk charmlettes...

gunna get drunk in her special diamond car trunk

and help my dead friend

kick junk

in the spirit world

see ya in Hell, Tinkerbell

Swillin' on the Peacetrain and headin' for neon orchards, where my brother reigns.... .*

iAN