666sadness

There is a loggin to the internet i use a keyword to sign inn mye laptop there is a number on the cell phone but its the time. The only number i will ever call on the small idiot picture boxed is the 911. It makes me sad. The 666 has not yet come but there is everyone with that number everywhere its on the barcode at the grocery on every bean can. Eye eat solid waste i find bizzaro land food and carry on. A motel on the highway i was browsing in the dumpster they made me stop they said the BOSS just could not have it its too rough and tough on nerves the motel customers might see me and feel sorry for me they might even help me so they want to to oviod the dumpster now. Trash is not a means or way of life to them at all. They promised to help me the way rich people do they nonexistant things they leave he said dissappointment comes to you he said it twice he was so sorry he is depriving me of life in trash. ??? 666 will help me he gave me a five dollars. He ruined my supply line now its over thats where the sadness in this poem from is come. The money spent but now i fly on rubber tired the bike missing the stop that almost saved my life the trash can never lidded up now for me at all i cannot like this turn of event the only way that i can sleep is too carry at least three trash bags on bars of handled on the bike to home. There is still lots of them in town the lids of rubber match my tires as eye try to carry vaguely on with trash as a way of life. 666sadness.