and i used to think i would hate myself enough to write something memorable in the grand scheme of a guilty plea but where's the spark and the sudden singalongs from people that i wished were my friends at the start of this all
however, earlier this year a reel of film tape marked "iii. country song in reverse," on one side and "daoboys sea world footage" on the other was discovered in the occupied zone of mena, arkansas we here at the museum of failure were lucky enough to have the artifact marked as historically important and the reel was shipped across border checkpoints having now seen the collection in its potential final form we now know that these pieces weren't just created by man but by heartbreak, anguish, frustration, infidelity, lust, addiction, divorce and suffering one may imagine the head of a constantly changing beast ripping open the author of these words with more and more blood the head of a fox wearing the young writer's body to prop them up whilst the second head of the pig snuffs out every word of regret this is true failure, embodied and immortalized this is embarrassment painted over the first and last name of the grave (is the recording on?)
