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＊　'　*　.　 ★　＊　　'＊　　*
＊　　.　'　　+:..:+ 　　　 ' 　＊
.　　　＊　　☆☆☆　＊　　　　'　　.
　　*　　'　+:...+....:+　　
'　　　　'　☆☆☆☆☆　　　＊　'　　
　＊　＊　+:...:+＠+:...:+ 　　　'　　*
＊　.　　.☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ ＊　'　*　.
　　.　　+:..:+&+:...:+:...:+
　*　.　☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆　＊　'　　　*
'　.　　+:...:+♡+:...:+§+:..:+
.　*　☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆　　'　*
　　.+:..:+♡+:..:+@+:..:+♡+:..:+
　.　　　　　.　▨ 　 '　' ＊　　　　　*
　　　.　*　　　　　　.　　　.　　'
　 ,·´ ¸,·´`)　　　　　　　　　　　*
　(¸,·´　(¸＊＊ Merry Christmas &　　　'
　　*　. Happy New Year! ＊＊

I don't even wanna f u c k you anymore.

I used to roll half a bottle of laxative pills into a Crunch wrap supreme and then leave cow pies on peoples door mats. People in my town installed porch cameras to catch the "Phantom S hitter" they said it couldn't possibly be one man, the hits were too frequent and too large. It had to be a whole gang of city punks coordinating and making planned precision strikes. I felt like a god among lesser beings in my town. Every time i was at the local diner and i overheard someone screaming about the black slop they found on their porch i felt powerful and unstoppable. I became too arrogant, started striking during the day. That's when they caught me and strung me up in the streets and hit me with rocks. I barely escaped with my life and i had to leave town. Now after all these years, I'm in a new town and I behave well enough. But I've got this nagging feeling, the urge is back, and I'm starting to think that my new town is about to experience a storm

walls are crazy

-REP kissed my sister