🚀 go-pugleaf

Whilst lurking about in bizarre
Dac saw his name writ from afar
And limper than D'arcy is cool
He threw down his play thing of stool
And squeaked like a bug in a jar

Poor Andy was hung like a tick
With a miniscule l'il boy dick
So he took out his anger
About the size of his dangler
Ad nauseum or 'til
we were sick


You poor fraud of a human dac, I have made fun of you on
a few occasions in bizarre and you leap like a frog on a
hotplate. The temper of your flames is not even enough to
vanquish D'arcy and you relish your reader's digest vocabulary
to such an obscene degree that you fail to recognize the utter   
contempt you inspire. Trish toys with you, bis the evil wiener
outclasses you and even D'arcy the mock human loaf makes you look
dim and ghod knows he's a fuckling rocket scientologist.
How you must writhe in self-loathing, that is assuming you have
the wit to recognize the spackled reject that stares out of 
your mirror at you with the look of vacancy in its eyes.
The net laughs at you, Melvin has scorned you for the senseless
corduroy butt-head that you are, and lhord knows the universe
awaits your impending response.
Suck lard pinkboy.