It's getting pretty late at night and for the hell of me I can't write a sonnet that isn't about moldy peanut butter or atomic wedgies, so I will just ramble on for awhile I suppose. I have had a lot of deep conversations with drunk people lately, and no, I am not one of those annoying types that think they can preach. Okay, I guess I actually am. Faith. Why do people who have such strong faith in something have no ability to question it? What is the point of their devout devotion to something if they cannot leave its embrace for awhile just to see if it's correct or not. I really wanted to write something fascinating or interesting or even worth sneezing snot at tonight, but I really don't think it's going to happen. Shakespeare. Who is he? Shouldn't I be writing about him? I suppose so.
Finally, after sometime, I came up with this sonnet...
I sat on the toilet, thinking about life
And decided life was good as I
squeezed out a poop
I said, blah blah blah
Hallelujah! And then I sat up and
Pulled up my pants.
It decided it was truly great
to be alive and be a glorified tube
Whoopee and all that, said I
As I walked out of the toilet room
and decided it was a good life
being a tube.
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