General

I say things. I guess you could call them bad. Only do I ever say them when I'm angry, each word then becomes like water and my mouth, the faucet. They flow smoother than the ocean yet stings worse than a burning sandstorm. Heavy, they weigh down my personality like a dried rose begging for a summer shower. Even a sailor would have to reconsider his part in this large vast universe. It's not attractive nor is it right, but just let me stub my toe or be accused of a crime I didn't commit. With a mouth like mine I wouldn't even be allowed access into hell.

By Airi Michs (V.I.P), December 19, 2013.
General

The janitor stared dead ahead, never lowering his gaze. Should a child get in his way he would trip over them with great performance, always dropping a swear under his breath. Sometimes we did it on purpose just to learn a new one, nineteen-something expletives are the best.