Geenstijl

Het is weekend. Wij ontdooien.

There's only one horizon, yet it can be found
in every direction we look.
You'd think it would be easier to get the hell out of here.
Just ask an iceberg.
In any Chinese restaurant, never order the 42.
Never answer your door during dinner,
it's probably another little shit peddling Snickers.
Posing behind their windows,
the mannequins remind us of their absent stylist.
This is all hero worship.
This poem ends the same way they all do—
list everyone you've ever had sex with here:
Prettig weekend. En be nice.