I see a pattern

So you've finally deranged the youth. How does this relate to our own derangement, class? In candidness and but in circumspect non-white lie laughs, the class regaled each other and coughed their saliva effusions while you bleach your eyebrows n your leg hairs the color of the dead sea from last year's dream about living on soil. While I'm out of meaning and out of words and thoughts and chalk it all up to granma and that piana!

さようなら、先生。

Born again regretationist, this guy. But with all frank out of the picture book, my dangerous wishes are already gone and with burned fury rescucitated after each quietude. If there are ways to portion out my mind and slaughter the unamenable remains, call the butcher would you...