Wig-Wam, Jr. leaves me with dusted strain of bacteria to breathe into lungs from apartment above.
Dusting also includes bacteria strain from pelvic area of young man he had sex with, whom would “rape,” “burglarize” and perhaps “murder” me to show “what a real man does.”
Excrement of the culprit dusting my place through the ceiling wall, lies about the upside floor.
Fill-in philosophizing on excrement and human waste reminds me of college days when talk like that was a daily occurrence. But the difference I pray is that the college student tends to learn meaning, while the culprit agonizes with imbecilic certainty of what was Hegelian, and Soviet profound stupor, rejecting things human–a common decency–a proponent for life-long endeavor, this hill climb of vigor and vitality of the healthy mind–cut short by the dredging sludge and human waste fudge slime that slithers it’s way down a steep incline to bottom out and surround love of the heart, and transcendental literature of the mind, and plague it with the very maggots and infinite array of carneverous worms to leave democracy and liberal economics in the putrefecation state of uselessness.
Abraham Boulder. –Keven.