The Fuckers Jason Stoneking The fuckers got me fuckin writing list poems again. The fuckers got me down. The fuckers have been tryin to fuck me more hours of the day than I can stay awake to fuckin defend myself. The fuckers want the rent money. The fuckers want my insurance number. The fuckers wanna charge me extra because my account is empty. The fuckers wanna sell me somethin of theirs, but they don’t wanna buy anything of mine. The fuckers wanna edit me, though. The fuckers want to make their opinion known. The fuckers want me to say thank you when they publish their own version of my shit in a magazine that doesn’t pay. The fuckers wanna smile at me and see me smile back. The fuckers wanna shake my hand with the same one they use to wipe their ass with my efforts. The fuckers want to be friends on Facebook. The fuckers want a free copy of my book for the purpose of a review they will never fuckin write. The fuckers want me to sell their shit to my friends. The fuckers are fuckin so many people at once that they never even get my name right when they send me the bill. But the fuckers better be careful. One of these days they’re gonna fuck the wrong fuckee and fuckin catch somethin. And when that day comes, I’ll be out in the street fuckin dancing. Cause I’m so sick of these fuckin fuckers fuckin me that I don’t even know who the fuck to fuck back anymore. I’ve just been takin it, and takin it too fuckin long. Yes, the fuckers got me down. But the fuckers got me thinking, and the fuckers got me writing, and that can’t be any fuckin good for them.
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