from your seat in the webb 01

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i've been here a while, and i've heard many interesting things. more than you, at least. i speak every language, i accept every belief; i put up with your nonsense in silence. yet you insist on rubbing your arse on me, even when i'm only here to support you. i don't like big butts, yet you pretend that you can't hear my squeals. i hold out my hands to hold up your books and your laptops, and you complain that i don't do it right, or spitefully pour out your coffee on me, or at my feet. you smash your feet into my back, grinding my bones and rubbing your grimy soles on my most tender spots. i can't even identify half the stuff you've stained me with. you disgust me.

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pssst! hey! steps! help me out here? give 'em a buzz? trip 'em up a bit? thanks, mate. i owe you one.

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