i asked this girl out on a date

but she already has a boyfriend.

the super dykes want my balls in a vise, it seems.
‘Screw you!’ they say at me,
maybe only half in jest.

I don’t know what is gonna happen.
I don’t know what is gonna happen.
I don’t know. I just don’t.

Back, on that avenue, where i made a hell of a holy fucking bloodly mess
of everything
my dad could do nothing but stare at a pencil
so much did he want to kill me. Or something.

so, what is the point of all of this?
I have to die, for you all.
And i will. One way
or another. Rope
or Guillotine. And the brother, the ammar, says Rope.