What's your problem

I believe I don’t believe a word you say, or care
So believe me when I say
I believe you are
The Sun
The Moon
And every other false light that radiantly shines out of your own asshole as you speak

Wait a second
Assholes don’t smile
That’s your face

My word, by gosh, oh dear
That seemed a tad over the top.

Fuck you
It’s early
I haven’t had coffee
And you have a face reminiscent of a scrotum with eyes, which I saw once in a dream
Perhaps it was a nightmare
Either way your being offends me as much as that
Hairy
Sweaty
Wrinkled
Skin pouch with eyes, which I hoped contained two infertile testicles
We don’t need more of them
And we don’t need more of you!

I hold you directly responsible for your stupid face and demand you say sorry
Failing that I will accept an apology from your parents for breeding.

Oh, I’m sorry
Perhaps I was a bit harsh
Please come back later in the afternoon
It will be closer to the end of the week, and a two day respite from your being awaits me
You will surely be upgraded in the dying hours to a tolerable dickhead
I will even fake pleasantries

“Have a lovely weekend”