Dear Black Abyss,
I address this post into the bleak future, from the depths of the human's satchel. From the sounds of it, they are stuffing their faces with more dumplings, and harassing local birds. May they be carried off in the talons of a giant pidgeon, and dropped in a steaming mountain of camel dung.
I have turned to haiku in this unidentifiable season of my discontent. And share with you my latest, rawest work, entitled: I Should Have Listened To Father.
A plastic surgeon
Treating sick ninja turtles.
No future in words.
I leave you with this picture of the dungeon I share with Barbie and Tink. As you can see, Tink's radioactive glow provides our sole dim light, which serves only to illuminate Barbie's ever-bared teeth, and a growing puddle of my talentless tears.
With stoic reserve,
Naked Man
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