death from above in a spanish island airport

my eyes crack and there aint no peace anymore. this sterile airport is full of filth. squinting old bats whose husbands don't know why they're there and are just going along with it like, "it was her idea". i figure they shrug alot and can't chose colours at IKEA either. babies scream apocalypticly, and bimbos, with nails and knockers as fake as their contracted marriages, tower over shriveled old men who trundle after them, breathlessly heaving suitcases twice their size. there's so many of them i feel the claustrophobia of a zombie movie moving in on me. so fucking many of them! dribbling drivel like "ooooh yeees. the resort is very exclusive, you know", and from others "well, the only problem is ... non of the locals speak any fucking english, do they?" all this filth around me like a menagerie of sin*. codgers, crones, cads and cunts. louts and lads, abusive dads. lovers elusive and all inclusive. business class losers, credit card users and company expenses pay for the high hotel fences. retirement home drones. the dragging droves of sagging bones. a plethora of the petted and pampered: pompous poodles and pugnose pups owned by prattling pumpkins and oompa-loompas. gymed-out fellas, casino dwellers, insurance sellers, and other rot. parents whose children fiff and faff. conservative families who think theyre getting away from the riff-raff. i see a hundred Hyacinth Buckets. kick it you fuckers! i can't be the only one here who wants to curl up and die! actually there's a lot that are on their way for one reason or another and i spot a few drab heliophobic faced motherfuckers who look like they already have. died, that is. died and just continued moving with a few surviving brain stem reflexes or something. and the whole time, there's more of them turning up. like they've made the journey here just to make my morning hell as if sleeping here wasn't bad enough. whole armies of these leatherfaced turtles in frothed up furs about as glamorous as tuesday night karaoke, persistently swinging through the damn doors. batches of em; bastard-bitches, deployed by private busses from their smug-hole hotels, pushing their fat asses into the airport and filing themselves in order of who's the biggest twirp who thinks they will reach their destination faster by being 1st in line for checking in. you stupid fucks. anyway, let it be known that there is no hope for the human race. whatever. fuck em. so moli and i haul ourselves some breaky from the bins and within 5 minutes have a feast of apples, peaches, pears n 'nanas, juice, doughnuts, pop, biscuits, crisps & profiteroles (i shit ye not), sandwiches, a pair of shoes (unfortunately 1 size too small), towels, a rucksack and ...well, a whole plenty of stuff that i threw away anyway when i later found more coca cola than jesus could carry in his gut and about 3 meals worth of fried shit at burger king. hell yeah. it was mostly still warm-n-all so i tanked up on junk like a greedy monarch and almost puked on take off. in fact a little bit did come up, but i swallowed it back down again like a good boy. not that it would have mattered if i hadn't - it was just out of instinct. i mean, after all the whining i've just done about my fellow passengers, i'm hardly gonna give a fuck about a little vom' slipping down the side of my cheek now am i? bon voyage (or whatever they say in whatever language they speak in whatever country we're leaving) 

*bear with me a moment, i'm about to go into a rhyming onslaught. in fact, not only does it rhyme, but also includes mass quantities of ... alliteration!