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im so lonely im gonna mert myself

Photo by Eric Sucar, with edits // cc2.0

i groweth melancholic, i beginneth to chant in rhyme

tonight, mine own girlies commit the blasphemous crime.

at home, high-lone, saturday night, i weepeth.

all out, who holdeth me? nay w’rds, not a peepeth,

wh’re art mine companions? o, wh’re didst thou go?

mine own belly ricochets with dread, guilt, perhaps woe?

i send for mine own bestie, clubmates, any friends.

i send for all, but nay response. this might not but be the end…

past seizures of sorrow, i recognize there be

a brother with real eyes, who can heareth me,

and useth thine real eyes to realize all real lies.  

behold! the powers of MERT, holiest and wise. 

taketh me hence in an ambulance, a warmeth forehead’s kiss

any type of care wouldst sendeth me in a state of frenzied bliss.

but i wilt summon those pious folk with

a drinketh, 'r two, 'r five. god be swift.

i useth mine own shot glass with theen broken button

to unleash mine demonkind, a monstrous whiskey'd glutton

two hours passeth by, i did drink an ocean’s worth

to heavily sedate a childing mistress giving birth.

i waiteth and waiteth and waiteth and waiteth in fear.

doth nay one loveth me? should i finisheth this beer?

that i should fade hence from this cruel world?

but alas! a door knocketh, mine own heart a-swirl.

“mert! dear mert!” i che'r with all mine own lungs

those gents lodging me on a stretcher, campus heroes unsung

forget the bill… their untame red uniforms maketh me throb

forget mine own friend! i has't mert! alloweth those folk doth their job

mertmrufngjimertbk kisseth meeeeeee


dont touch my clotters mert woman!!