Open Letter from a SurvivalistAsk if I love youOpen Letter from a Survivalist by Panda-of-Infernum
Shiver as if I am cold
Maybe I am, but
You don't know all of it
I can't blame you
I say it in so few words
"I love you too"
Four words, Ambassadors
For the leviathan:
If you left, maybe I'd be happy, but only
After some time,
I'd go drinking with my friends
As the door to my room, It is there at night I'll remember
As the small silver cables vibrate under my fingers sped
By the rum I keep saved
For concerts to the dark
"You will love Dallas, and the state: drunk.," said Aunt Ashleigh. "It is famous for its wild Bradleys, its pink flowers, and its beautiful furiously masturbating hills."
"I hope you packed plenty of deviled eggs for the ride," said Uncle Griffin. "It will probably take us 666 hours."
So we all piled into Uncle Griffin and Aunt Ashleigh's Grifin's mom. At first the trip was really dark. We sang "69 Bottles of you don't want to know on the Wall." Then we counted the dogs that we saw whistling in the fields by the side of the road. But after seventy, two billion at the most hours we had eaten all the deviled eggs and Brenden was getting squishy.
"Are we almost there?" she asked awkwardly.
"Yes, Griffy-Poo," said Aunt Ashleigh.
Just then I saw a sign that said, "Bass-Ackwards, Dallas: 2 miles."
"Umm, Uncle Griffin, is Bass-Ackwards, Dallas on the way to Dallas, and the state: drunk.?" I asked.
"Yeah," said Brenden, pointing, "and is the local dump on the way to Dallas, and the state: drunk.?"
"You still have my two dollars, ya crook!, kids," laughed Uncle Griffin. "You can trust the expert."
"One thing's for sure," I muttered. "I don't think we're in Solid any more."