But that goes against my religious beliefs. I know there is a cow level after you get the leg from that dead guy, you know, the one that gives it to you - freaking necrophiliacs, defiling and plunder a dead drunkard's body. Also, the closest taco bell to my house is right beside a funeral home; the scary part is.. they NEVER run out of room for those dead bodies. And you wonder why the ground "beef" at the taco place is so unique.
That's what you think... For all you know, I'm already trolling behind you, in your shadow's steps. Yes, maybe I'm already stalking and brooding, contriving how I will introduce myself and losing myself in the ocean of possibilities it could lead to. Yes. Maybe, maybe this isn't a joke.
In a much delayed response to your "review" of my poem You Won't Read This:
I know little enough of your life,having abandonded tracking this page some time ago. My life is indeed decent, if occasioanlly braking my brain. As to you and Jenn never speaking again: it brings meno joy. And much ire. Why? not sure meself, but I never resented you speaking to her and being close. As for Karma, screw that, take destiny in your own hands. And while I am a bit bitter in the piece, Jenn isnever referenced. It was written to a friendof mine who refuses to speak tome over a trivial matter. Someone Ihave known nearly allof my life. And I must admit that the verbal sparring betwixt us has left a gaping hole in mymental exercises. I am sorry youhavenoenemy besides yourself for now, but I think you can manage o antagonize someone.