Yesterday is here.

I ought to be feeling really tired right now. My legs are aching and my head is a carousel. I have learnt last night that a fatal combination of Duromine, Nicotine and Caffeine can lead to severe aftermaths of being wide-eyed open all through the night, reacting a tad slower to ongoings than the usual, making mistakes at work (when I work, I am a perfectionist).

I just cannot go to sleep now. Because there's this lingering aroma of melting cheese on a crust, most prolly topped with pepperoni and some capsicums, tantalising the breaths I inhale. Then it growled and the owner got tempted.

I wrote a poem recently and I can say I am pretty proud it turns out quite well (at least, to me). So very queer as usual but that's just me.

Stomp's fucking funny okay. Some r-tards really have the time of the world to take pictures of ugly commuters, horny teenagers in school uniforms, men in big cars going Geylang for hoes. Bleeding minds, just walk up to whoever you think ain't doing anything right and start a fight. Because, so what? You'd still be a rock star.

Did I mention I adore that new song from Pink? :D

I really want to start a fight! With some bloody obese bitch with big fat bums and cucumber-sullen lips. I'll slap her hard in her fuckin face, throw her down on the floor, kick her hard everywhere and finally when she's oh so begging me so hard not to kill her, I will just blow her brains off after taking a lovely photo of her pleading look.

Pathetic.

And that's really a fantasy of mine. /slurps