A Poetry Review

 " As Freud would assume, the reason for this angst would be a severe chemical imbalance located in the author's Anal Labia Majoris."

Piss off and die

To whom it may concern:
My art is an extension of my will
a weapon to wield
a wall to hide
my insecurity from questing eyes
to stand aloof
in hopes
of never being known
to project my ego
the salted soil of my pride
against the frame of others
piss off and die
to feign superiority
while i sit alone and cry
and am exposed by total strangers
piss off and die
why must i be such a bitch
and pretend that's where content must lie
Yangil fuck you for noticing
now piss off and die

If you are very quiet, you can hear John Tesh playing his sultry rendition of "Don't let me be lonely tonight" in the far background.  Indeed.  Such blatant literary incompetence has seldom been seen in academia today.  It is apparent that the author of this bleeding, steaming, haycock of Ubangi defecation is without any notable lingual skills whatsoever.  Upon perusal of this veritably feeble minded work of banality, one is almost driven to tears by the pathetic ness of it all.   Although there is no question in regards to the ineptitude of the piece as a literary work, psychologically this insipid work of putrescence is profound.  Such lines as the following send out an ominous tone:

"Why must I be such a bitch and pretend that's where content must lie.  Yangil fuck you for noticing, now piss off and die...."

The author not only addresses himself as a different entity, but also proceeds to self-castrate and thereby belittling himself in the process.  If one were to use the scientific method of Sigmund Freud, one would easily diagnose the author to be filled with homosexual angst.  As Freud would assume, the reason for this angst would be a severe chemical imbalance located in the author's Anal Labia Majoris.  Although the cause of this malady is due to prolonged anal gesticulation of ungenteel cock, sadly the cure for this sickness is not yet known. Other lines such as the following explain the author's innermost being:

"To feign superiority, while I sit alone and cry, and am exposed by total strangers, piss off and die,"

Although rowdy and petulant on the outside, he is in actuality sniveling and frightened on the inside.  Those who have witnessed his incorrigible antics in the philosophy chat room of AOL, assume that he fervently seeks turgid anus, but do not know that it is actually for his own turgid anus that he is fervently sought.  It has been rumored that on one particular occasion, after the author had been raped and left lying in a puddle of his own feces and blood, that he had wept for his deflowered rectum while desperately trying to remake his colon.  It was at this terrible time that he ultimately found transcendence beyond his sorrow and began to write.  The particular poem featured here, is an example of what became of that violent episode.

Now I have done my duty as a literary scholar and have offered my review of this pathetic author's work.  If nothing more is expected of me, please avert your eyes as I take five minutes out of my life to masturbate and then ejaculate directly into my own mouth.  It is the only method in which I know, to wash this rancid taste of literary filth away.