Well fucking Fuck

I've written several poems and short stories, paintings, inks, sculpts, molds, life castings, robotic casings, prosthetics, movie props, latex masks, dental prosthetics, -FUCKING EYES WITH CAMERAS in them to track the surroundings-  and that whole sex robot shit with TRUE COMPANION after the deal with REAL DOLLS didn't pan out. Well fucking fuck. I don't care what I need to do to make a fucking buck . Just don't fucking fuck me, you fucking fuck. I gave you money to keep the deal with LIONSGATE so we could keep selling those fucking SAW masks, you fuck. The ones that I and only I produced for hope that our business would grow. You used it instead to pay your rent and to feed your family delivery pizza every night as I slept in the shed, busting my ass every waking hour, hallucinating from a broken bottle of M.E.K. only to be repaid by nothing other than to be kicked out by your wife when the money was gone. Nothing repaid to me. I was not needed anymore. I lost my job helping your selfish egotistical ass, just as I've witnessed you destroy so many others' lives. Well fucking fuck, you fucking Fuck