Tell the /fit/fag I know his heart. What he told me before, I have it in my heart. I am tired of eating. Our burguers are eaten; Doritos, Cheetos and Oreo are eaten, my daddy's meat for the sunday barbecue is eaten. All the food is eaten by myself. It is my body who say yes or no. He who led my gut dead, it's hurting. I'm hungry as long Is hurts, and I have no food; my huge stomach is hungrying to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the burguer king, and have no burguers, no coke. No one knows where they are—perhaps hungrying to death. I want to have time to look for my brothers, to see how many I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my fat! I am tired; my stomach is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will eat a lot no more forever.