rotten luck.

rotten walls?
yep.
rotten flooring?
heck yep.
rotten ceiling sauce?
of course.
y'know what's butt-nasty?
a secretly rotten bathroom.
butt-nasty like a nasty butt.
i should know,
i've got both.
ninjas,
underneath the underneath,
and inside the outsides,
there was a doo-doo buttery sh!t-salad sandwich
lying in the weeds, wrecking up on the structure.
...harsh.
do ya'll know about old fashioned insulation?
newspaper.
horse hair.
rags.
all bad things.
but,
what do you know about turbo throwback insulation?
would you like to know what that is?
it's air.
that's correct.
air.
empty. vacant. vast. air.
that's all there is between the walls,
the frosty outdoor coldsnappin' weather, and us.
when you think on it,
the dark, dank, damp, doo-doo is almost awesome,
at least, by comparison;
i mean,
it's beat up and it's suckie,
but it's actually there...
i can see it right now.
and it IS definitely beat up and suckie
small wonder that it's been so chilled out in my kitchen.
good thing i keep a stocked up pantry.
because that's all that's insulating the walls, yeah?
i guess it's frozen food, in a way.
ridiculous.
old house funhouse distortion, duders.
extra-wonky, without the hall of mirrors, even.
***********
what happens next?
that's a good question.
i mean it.
when we all do all the things we have to do;
when the goals are reached;
when the requisite levels of hottness are met;
what happens next?
too much of a good thing is never enough.
well true, an' that.
but when we're maxed out at eleven,
way doper, and fresher, and all that stuff,
where do we go from here?
that's the big question.
somebody better hit me up with an answer.
no joke, mutha-lickers.
hit me up.
with the answer.
"antlers" will not be accepted.
battlebeasteleven@gmail.com
do it.
i'm waiting.
in fact,
i'm freezing my A-hole off.
but i'm also waiting.
what happens next?
never quiet, never soft.....