Dear Managment,

In my most deranged moment I wanted to seize a can of spray paint, tramp through the grassless ground cover of rocks to where your fortress lays. Picturesque in your faux glory; ads in a stupid lying book. I would shake my can of spray paint all the while knowing how it would look already. Why I picture it black when I only have blue spray paint I don't know. In my anger I make sharp stabbing letters as high as I can reach and as large as I can make them. Swallowing the lump in my throat like it was something non imaginary, sweating out tears of strangled rage I tell them all what you really are. You are heartless gutless swine. The job you do is utterly beyond my grasp. I cannot understand thriving as a person without pity. Your pitiless nature no doubt loves your work, but it would make me sick to my stomach every night.