A Bitter Aftertaste
By Matthew Smith-Hessing
As a warm July zephyr embraced the uncovered contours of Sarah’s glistening adolescent form, she was blissfully unaware that this summer was to be like none she had ever known. That this summer would see her faith shake, her heart open, and her orchid flower. Instead, she lay there innocently at the shimmering waterside of her parents’ lakeside holiday home, thinking about the increasingly imminent prospect of going to college, or some shit like that. Although Sarah enjoyed nothing more than staring into the lake for hour upon mesmerised hour, for as long as she could remember she had always harboured a profound fear of the water itself. Luckily for her, she was ignorant to the fact that this summer, she was destined to get
-reblogged your mum.
Nobody wants to see emo pictures that you think are super arty or whatever.
Why couldn’t everyone leave that behind with MySpace?
This website is gay.
In today’s town centres, I am less than impressed.
Your only means of expression is the way that you’re dressed.
The hopes of our children truly are dire
when people think less of themselves, and more of attire.
Why should my clothes become a source for critique?
Should we all look alike? And should nought be unique?
The label on your jeans wont affect your health,
so screw the fashions, and stay true to yourself.
How much can be judged when all that you see
are carbon copies of the coverstars in NME?
Don’t get lured by the scene, caught hook, line and sinker.
Join me in this dying breed of self-aware free-thinkers!
A toast to us all, let us not stand divided!
Let us spare just one thought, for all those misguided.
This drug of self-conscious is their vice, it is their sin.
The most expensive drug of all, the drug aesthetamine.
It’s only short, I know.
But what the fuck did you do this morning?