Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal

I know it’s

*sigh*
(we never talk)

——-


areglsdajgaldg my playlist pulled it up and I can’t hear it without thinking of you and come ON amy don’t make this more melodramatic than it actually is, but dang kid we used to be

I don’t know.  I don’t know what we were.

 

on a happier note:  I wrote this while watching Handel’s Messiah (I PAID FIVE DOLLARS, yeh, big spender)
maybe I should have been paying more attention to the music, but what can you do when your Blood Ink Content is .89?  I had to purge.   Also I am trying to think of a better title for it.

Delight
 

Reason to love life number
three hundred forty-seven
spectacular beards
the kind of foliage that would be
at home on a machete-wielding
safari guide beast of a man
the kind of scruffy fur
that gets up and
drunkenly starts a bar fight
your face is a scenario of
sage meets
bowtied hobo meets
wild jungle vine-swinger
I would dedicate my life to
protecting your jawline from scissors
from sharp edges of any sort
you are lumberjack
magnificence in the key of
something low
more than worthy of the next great
cinematic close-up
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