39. Here’s a rizla, go bun yourself

Take this bit of paper and wrap it round you like a blanket

As I don’t want to put my tongue anywhere near you, I’ll be pissing on the sticky strip

Telling you it’s an accident when I miss and hit you in the face.

I don’t even want to inhale you

The thought of you in my lungs makes me want to hack my penis off with an old door key

I’ll just set you on fire

And leave you in the ash tray