Goddammit sunset.
You think you’re so amazing because you gently usher in the night. Well, let me tell you something asshole. A dimming switch could do your job, and do it way-the-fuck better.
And let me tell you something else. Your attention whoring is more constant than gravity. I’m so fucking sick of you.
Get out of my fucking view.
Fuck you, Sunset.
When Bob Ross painted you, he always put the trees in front of you. Don't wonder why.
You’re a dumbass for ever thinking you could be art. Tupperware is more artistic than you.
You’re not light either, you dick. Stop trying to act like you have particle/wave duality. You’re as complex as a fucking folding chair.
And DO NOT attempt to usurp the name “Rainbow” just because you’re colorful. Your colors are a byproduct of pollution. That makes you the equivalent of an oil spill on the back of a penguin.
And I hate you for it.
Fuck you, Sunset.
Why can’t you be like an Etch A Sketch so I can shake you and make you disappear?
You are a kaleidoscope of instability.
You make me so fucking uncomfortable.
Fuck you, Sunset.
What are you even doing up there? Get down. Get a therapist.
Not even ducks like you. Butterflies would spit at you if they could. I once met a meadowlark who wanted to tell you to eat shit.
A fucking rain cloud could take you out.
Fuck you, Sunset.
If you made a sound it would be a dial tone scratching its nails on a chalkboard.
If you were a texture you’d be that weird film congealed on popsicles that have been in the freezer too long.
If you were an utterance you’d be Anakin Skywalker screaming “I hate you!” at Obi-Wan Kenobi. No wait, that's me. I’d be Anakin and I'd fucking scream that at you.
Because you’re the worst.
Fuck you, Sunset.
What is it about you that makes me want to walk in the other direction? Oh, that’s right. It’s your face.
You are a technicolor reminder that the universe does not give a flying feathery fuck about any of us.
In this world where everything is bad and nothing is ok, you are the plastic that looks recyclable but isn’t.
You’re a meeting that could’ve been an email.
Fuck you, Sunset.
Why can’t you be more like the Northern Lights? They’re enigmatic and majestic. A true wonder to behold. You’re fucking pathetic.
Or take a cue from your smarter sibling, the sunrise, and occur at a time when I’m asleep.
People don't write poems about you anymore because you’ve lost all your mystery. They’ve moved on to better things like low-flow toilets and turkey jerky. We all know you’re just aerosolized smoke particles and an excess of fucking Nitrogen.
Gross.
Fuck you, Sunset.
No one ever travels back in time to see a sunset. Know why? Because no one’s figured out time travel yet fuckhead. And no one’s working quantum calculations just to see your finger-painting fuck up the sky again.
It’s a goddamn crime what you do to the horizon.
I feel sorry for the West.
Fuck you, Sunset.
You are the reason people have to wait longer to see fireworks.
You are a background program overusing data.
You are more predictable than shelled walnuts.
You are the worst transition since
And you will never, never, NEVER be a Wordle answer.
Fuck you, Sunset.