The stress of a day filled with arseholes and cunts would be nothing if not for the person in front of me driving miss daisy too slow that a shunt nearly happens but God wills it not so it won’t.
Then next there’s a trucker convinced he is God, he’s a dick like the others those thick as fuck sods who career through the traffic, a bellended rod of a penis sans balls who needs kicked in the pods.
My fury is lessened as open roads hone into view as I’m reaching my holiday home but I know that it starts with a whimper a groan as I travel along this black ribbon to roam.
back up north from a rest and retreat from my life as the traffic jams cause all my worries and strife when my mind is so focused the tip of a knife wants to stab these daft fuckers and end their cunt lives.
As my ode slides to rest with my thoughts turned to death of the other wank drivers I’ve come so bereft of their worries and troubles I’m blind and I’m deaf to their miserable beings I’ll take their last breaths.
The last of my stanzas should wrap up this rant, but I know that tomorrow I’ll try and recant all this tirade of murder (or maybe I shant) I want to be pleasant, I probably can’t.