Today, the kindergarten wall took a not so great tumble down to a ghastly pile of crap emerging from my personal Hellmouth set up by IT.
First you brush upon me
In hallowed white
But in the most impious way.
Then you burst upon me a slew of stain
From Satan’s personal palette.
This I can tell for some mortals admired
Except those of sane virtuous way.
But more I grieve as this was not
The end of your profanity.
You soon resolved to
Write upon my trampled skin
The names of books of wicked intent
None prophetic or of sacred verse
But of Irishmen and paedophilic mirth.
Irony struck when you wrote of a catch
For now you are caught in the very same.
Either desert me in this deplorable state
And be mocked by the world for incompetence.
Or amend me to a more agreeable sight
And lose your last penny to effort’s might.
Regardless of stance,
Leave your thoughts not to stand.
A week of nine days you have,
Before you’re caught in either catch.
If I feel masochistic enough sometime, I'll upload some pictures.
