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Goth Angst Death Blood by Schmittavius the Third, Esquire. There are dark skies ahead. Blood. Death. Forever tumbling onwards. No point. No purpose. However shall I contend in these dark times? With valour? With pride? Both outdated, outmoded, outdone. Forever shall we wage war against our friends and brethren. The tools? The method? Poptarts shall set us free. Not bagels. Not toasties. POP. And we are free from our self imposed shackles. |
I did this one for Sarah, a very close friend of mine. I'm fairly certain it's not what she wanted or expected, but I couldn't write another one. As you may or may not have noticed, the vast majority of the stuff I do is satire. Plus, I'm a real moody git when writing these explanations down at the bottom.
