Event: Desperate Attempts of Sounding Artsy

Chi Weng: This Sunday i gonna bring my duffel bag right home, next to you babes
and we can open it together
to reveal the unwashed stuff hidden and packed away inside


Me: Goodness, a route march there might be, still wash them you must


Him: And that i would do the moment i step into hell


Me: hell offers naught free for you to wash your stuff
pay them you will have to, dollars it will be
wash them yourself? no chance i say


Him: a dollar for the cleans, a bag left unpacked
if it t'were to open now, hell would break loose
imps and daemons of shades and sizes
where then to open hell,
if not within hell itself?


Me: tis hell different from that
the opening of the first would spare most from hell such as thyself


Him: lo! for suicide would answer not world's woes
if then i should die when hell first opened
then would i die of earth
but if there be me a presence in hell
and there be hell opened, hell
death would not stop me
from serving the damned


Me: truth your words might hold
if tis hell opened in that
evil unleashed banish us all
the cruelty of all things are as worse as can be already
selfless you must be!


Him: selfless not in such circumstances permit
for tis not selflessness that would save us all
but fuel solid
devoid of liquids or gas
that of a solid death
we cast unto his office
and who? you might inquire
he, i say
born of brimstone, malice and shortness
of ugliness, baldness and an aging atrocity
cast then our fuel solid into his office
and turn his paper into coal
and office into oven
burnt his office, position and rank
hierachial hypocrite...


Me: you speak far from tis hell we speak
hell itself still be
hell itself possess no fuel solid
hell itself burn deaths unto us not him