I'll cover your eyes, that way you have an excuse not to read my blog.

I'll drag you into the backyard, use a brick to knock out your teeth; shove the corner of it in your eye. I'll use the brick to grind up your lousy teeth and pour the lousy powder in your ears, I'll keep it from spilling out by putting duct tape over your ears. That way you can't hear me reading my poems over and over again; yelling "fuck off ya dead star" to you, and to god.

You'll slowly be bleeding to death, completely and entirely unable to move, not only because I used duct tape to bind your hands and feet, but mostly due to the fact that I filled a canvas bag full of bricks and used it to break your legs and arms. When I swung it against your chest and stomach, it broke your ribs, cracked your breast plate and collapsed one of your lungs.

While your off ruining the grass with your filthy blood, I'll be hard at work diging a hole for you.

I'll drop you in the hole, 5 feet 3 inches deep. I'll throw 2 feet of dirt, a foot of gravel, a layer of bricks, and two more feet of dirt. I'll throw another layer of bricks on top of that, install a nice little fire place and invite a few friends over to roast marshmallows and talk about music and poetry and books and things that really matter, unlike you.