This is a message that's privately public. If there's the slightest chance you're offended by profanity, please don't bother clicking "Read More," as what follows may be too vulgar for your senses. That said, bring on the poetry/freeform rant...

The war is on
because you started it
and I plan on finishing it.
The game is over
and the music has stopped
and before you know it
I'll be there,
breathing down your neck
and taking care of
whatever business I have to.
You've lost.
You know it.
You can't fucking win.
You've undermined yourself
at every last turn,
and the Fat Man is about to drop
like the proverbial mother-fucking bomb.

You know who you are
and what you have done
and all the twists
and all the turns
and all the lies
and all the burns
and all the everything you've sown to reap
and all treasures you just can't keep
and all the hate and vitriol spewed
and you just don't have a fucking clue it's over.

I won.

You know it's true.
Yet you fight,
'cause you don't know what else to do.

And all the king's horses
and all the king's men
won't dare fucking help you put this together again.

You lost,
you are lost
and will never be found
'cause you're too fucking busy
driving yourself in the ground
with your fucking idiot-shovel,
pushing dolt-dirt overhead
as you lie in the sheets
that you pissed on the bed,
and you race to detract,
and revision the past,
and claim everyone culpable
except your dumb ass.
As you lie in deceit
attempting to cast
the righteous for heinous
and pure for the ass,
your colors shine through
and continue to mass
as a brown blob of hatred you continuously spew,
and scream to the heavens until you turn blue.

Keep going.
Go further.
You shine as you die.
You've taught well the crocodile
learning to cry.
Your shed, vacant lost,
and eternally dry,
'cause you know
shit sans wings just cannot fly.

With blood on your hands
and lies on your lips
your quips, though they drip,
with hatred are quick
to perish as sunlight
shines as you sip
from the chalice you bear
from the throw from your hip.
And maggots feast heartily from inside and out
and wriggle and squirm and twist all about
and suck up your soul and bring forth a drought
of feeling
and care
and compassion
and draw strength from your shit-stenched breath.

Fuck you.