I haven’t checked but if I had to guess
you found a problem with some some shit,
put it in a bag, lit it aflame, and ringed my door.
There is not enough toilet paper in the world
to make a ball large enough but small
enough to throw at you and cause you pain.
This upsets me.
But not nearly as much as whatever page
in the PSY textbook is gonna get referenced.
In a hypothetical world,
you should consider that a threat.
I would threaten the shit out of you.
With that deadly mass of toilet paper.
Do you really think after six million times
of me punching you in the face in broad daylight
in front of countless witnesses and cameras,
on the six millionth and first time I do this
I give a fuck to cover my bases.
Right. Sure. Me, too, friend. Me, too.
If I didn’t punch you in the face today,
but you saw me today,
probably just wasn’t in the mood.
Maybe it gets old once it gets countless.
But thanks to this poop frying on my front porch,
here I am. I just know that it’s out there.
I haven’t even looked yet.
Possibly won’t. Probably won’t. Depends really
on how much it appalls me.
I just feel it in my bones which is
sufficient enough once it becomes countless.
Fuckless, my friend-
Everything is possible.
I’m my worst enemy
But it’s statements like that
which leave us with nothing in common.