i hope whatever comes next is stress free these people, this place is killing me (this is a poem about stress) symbolism follows: you give me a shovel and you tell me to dig, because by digging i find peanuts and you like peanuts and i like peanuts because peanuts allow us to live. So the more i dig the more peanuts i find for you. And you take all the peanuts i dig up and then you keep most of the peanuts for yourself but you give me enough peanuts so that i will keep digging for you, not enough peanuts to do anything else, like learn how to grow my own peanuts or afford my own tree house, but that isnt the point of this symbol-story, the point of this symbol-story is that the SHOVEL you give me to dig for your peanuts with is the SHOVEL you require me to dig with and that SHOVEL is not a SHOVEL, no, its a piece of SHIT carefully shaped like a SHOVEL, and that SHIT SHOVEL you give me to dig peanuts with keeps breaking and stops working and folds up in mid dig and on and on, problem after problem, but you dont care, you just keep demanding that I keep digging faster and faster with this piece of shit shovel, and while I am digging for peanuts you keep dumping these loads of angry hungry monkeys on me, and you want me to give them all these lemon balls that you have and they will give me peanuts for the lemon balls because they have lots of peanuts but they have no lemon balls, however the lemon balls you tell them we have are actually not available and you made me tell them they were, you even advertized that they could come and get any of these lemon balls they wanted by giving us their peanuts, so they come and the lemon balls are not available, so the angry monkeys are even more angry with me, and you are angry with me because they want there peanuts back, but you dont want to give their peanuts back. And So you have me picking lemon balls and digging for peanuts and you get some other people to help me but they dont really want to do this and so they do anything else they can find to do, and/or you have them do all sorts of others stuff except help pick the lemon balls that you invited the monkeys to exchange for peanuts, nor do these other peanut diggers and lemon pickers want to dig for the peanuts you want. And so there I am, doing all the peanut digging and all the lemon picking with a worthless piece of shit shovel and worthless lemon ball picker and you just keep demanding that I somehow pull peanuts and lemon balls out of my ass to make you and the angry lemon ball sucking monkeys happy. And this is the hell in which I find myself. Being constantly ripped in half. (note: I love a challenge. I have always been up to any challenge. But you what you create is an impossibility. I am not up to an impossibility.) No one, not even a rabbit like myself, can pull a rabbit out of its own ass without killing itself. Or turning itself inside out. Once you turn a rabbit inside out, it is not a rabbit any more, it is a thing. It is a monstrosity. And soon it will die. And you will simply replace it with another peanut digging, lemon ball picking rabbit for you and your angry monkeys to murder slowly. THE END (of me) (will not arrive in time) (i fear) calling all angels, calling all angels, save me from this world.... throw me a bone..... calling all angels, calling all angels..... note: the lyrics have been changed to suit the needs. sweetdreamswiththefishes
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 05:25:58 +0000
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