i'm right, you're wrong

it's only allowed
when
someone else's ass is on the line.

dear neal

today i pooped in a trashcan.

love cody

when i blink, you hear it.
when i breathe, you feel it.
when i sleep, you dream about me.
im trying not to wake you up.

i want to own cowboy boots.

i would wear them on a plot of land i bought, and i would raise this plot of land to grow up into a ranch.

and on my ranch, i would have a small quaint house. the rooms in this house would consist of-
a small kitchen, with every major appliance. including a magic bullet.
a nice sized bedroom. above my bed would hang a pump action remington 870 shotgun.
a room for my movies. which i would dedicate one night per week watching each one alphabetically.
a room for my writing of movies. a wall of note cards as far as the eye could see. filled with my genius.
a bathroom which features a toilet thats big enough to flush an elephant down.
there would be some more rooms too. but i dont have plans for them yet.

and on my ranch, my back yard would be huge. it would be a massive plot of land that included my own mini forest.
i would put cement down on a spot of land. the cement would cover roughly the size of half a football field. i would put shelter over it. when it would rain i will go out to this plot of land and with my cowboy boots i would teach myself how to play 'a nice way to kill old people' by ed gein on drums. when i finished teaching myself that on drums, i would forget how, and learn it again.

also in my backyard i would treat the grass like it was my own plot of heaven. i would dedicate 5 months to make it the best looking lawn youve ever seen. ever. then i would by cows and horses and let them roam free in the backyard of my ranch. they would eat like kings.

then, on my ranch every december i would lay on top of the roof of my little house, and with a hunting rifle with a medium distance scope on it. i would shoot every single animal i owned. i would shoot the cows first. babys to start things off. then i would work my way up. the blood would splatter on the snow. it'll look almost as beautiful as the lawn as you were picturing beforehand. i would shoot one at a time. then take the cow to my cemented shelter, and continue to butcher it. slicing all sorts of premium meats. that way i would have my food supply for the winter and most summers.

god i want cowboy boots.

two tones gone.
the devils wearing my underwear,
bubbles been blown.
stride gum doesnt last forever.

if i disappear out of thin air.
no note, no trace, no paper trail.
dont panic.

you wouldnt anyways.

so what?