easily over forty thousand words

i won't verify.
god damn it.
do i bother to make this a cohesive narrative for the feeble readers made remedial by their sad excuse for schooling?
do i bother with those the "experts" tell me are beneath my concern?
one more person calls me a genius and eyes will roll
from the lack of consciousness and blood.
it never matter when it's so idiot who is afraid of big words and computer cords.
it's you awarded verifiers and your doctorated dweebs.
your opinions almost matter less.
since you are so great in your mass of matter and yet so removed from matters at hand.
i hate you all so much in that way that does not mean real hate.
don't wait for that begging letter. it will never come.
if i needed you now, i would have bothered then.
i'd rather be a pauper in the right than a hippo crit in the wrong
for the filthy lucre you forgot to protect.
how sad your "genius" didn't extend to your financial soundness.
remind me to care after i've scrubbed the blood off the floor of the apartment of that poor girl that didn't matter enough to have a name.
and, yes, it is a hands and knees job to do it right
and i'm not talking about your chemically enabled genitals.
again.
a gardener would prune that sad weed, chauncey.