Human to Humour Interface
Much of my emotional distress is, I believe, the result of a mismatched interface between me and the outside world. For example, I consider the ability to be asked a question, understand it and provide a suitable answer to be a pretty basic, core requirement of communicating with others. This is less normal than I had once suspected.
I spend much of my day, especially at the moment, talking to other people. They have a lamentable inability to comprehend information, no matter how simple the presentation and content. It is painful to listen to and observe. How the fuck can these (apparent) humans interact? Are they fucking psychic and so find my primitive scrapings of crude symbols to be so far beneath their telepathic intellects that they cannot comprehend written language? Or are they just utterly incompetent?
I’m regularly assured that while many people are lacking in certain skill areas (like communication, memory, reason…) they have been employed because of their amazing skills in other areas (like talking to other people – sure they can talk, it’s unfortunate the content is meaningless repetitive babble). But I doubt it. If you can’t communicate then there ain’t much else you can do either. I suppose they must just be the drones of a psychic hive mind.
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Shanktimonious: Self-Righteous Angry Poetry
Your Call Is Important To Us
Thanks for your call.
I’m hanging up now
So I can hang myself.
Did you think,
When you rang
To withhold your shartbrain query?
Sometimes I feel like putting
My fist into your face,
You know I can puppet you;
Make your face flap
When you’re talking like a twat.
Downtown Fo Shizzle
Put yo hands in the air!
Put yo hands in the air!
No, your other hands.
I don’t accept surrender from imbeciles.
The only tears I’ll ever shed again
Are other people’s blood.
You know I’d beat you with a stick
Just for looking at me slanty:
your judging eyes.
Maybe I’m over-sensitive,
Let’s see how your screams affect me.
All My Wheels Are Round
I can only assume
That you’ve got a plan
That I can’t understand.
Miracle brain sparks,
Thousand Yard Glare
Fuck you and fuck your stupid face,
Stick to chewing and spitting.
Blandly hateful faces
Gazing with malevolent vacancy.
- Skankrabatic – The Sinuous Twist of Angry Poetry (captainpigheart.com)
- Shankopalypse – The End of Angry Poetry (captainpigheart.com)
- Shankaz’eroth: The Dead God of Bitter Verse (captainpigheart.com)