suffering. May your suicide fill the sky.
Your oblivion has become total.
You deserve a hideous death.
Join together in your faint decrepitude.
See how many more abortions
you can cheer for. Pretend
that your guitars can save the world.
Some Americans prefer their genocide
turned inward: and they think that they
are better than the other kind.
You are the avant garde of nothingness,
and not of art: your hearts are gone
from every clever little thing you do.
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