Smug fuckers write blogs about what they hate.
I do not hate much.
I hate what is fleeting and inconsequential.
They are not worth griping about.
Blogs and opinions of the original restaurants.
A lot of blogs, information processing.
This blog is terrible poetry. (Obvs)

(translated to Lithuanian & back via Google Translate)

cocky fuckers write blogs about things they hate.

i don't hate much.

the things i hate are fleeting and inconsequential.

they're not worth griping about.

original blogs are opinions and rants.

lots of blogs are recycled information.

this blog is terrible poetry. (obvs)

fresh in mind

there was a train fell it came down

time was fresh in mind and time fried

like chicken on the bone

it always comes to this

peeling back skin flesh automatic shred

it was and we were

crew and over

pieces of them lying around

just to escape

where did we want

eeeeedit:

this top piece was a stream-of-consciousness writing. the following has been culled from it:

time was fresh in mind

time was fried

like chicken on the bone

peeling back skin flesh

thin-sliced sheets

skin stretched taut

literal:

time was a roast-toasted chicken leg

chipped my tooth
on an old steel sink
gums went numb

scooters
vacation
fall

big

far-gone

upward

cut up on by the wreckage

killed

the force of the blow

hiding only part

i am terribly over-cooked

supper's burned

plate's absolutely ruined

on fire

empty

milked dry

strewn mid-air

upward

cut

killed

supper's burned