weeby skeeby

if you are reading this i want you to stop for a moment and imagine a crab

you know I couldn’t be a cowboy because I’d be stuck with my partner in the dead cold prairie night and our horses would be tied up and we’d be huddlin around a crudely made fire because it was too far to go back to the ranch and he’d play the sweetest song on his harmonica, the kind that you felt in your bones and your heart and that the hymns had nothin on, and then he’d finish and we’d both lean in a little too close and my hand would be on his bandanna and his whiskey-breath would be hot on my lips and I’d realize that maybe it wasn’t the touch of a woman i’d been hankerin for

yeah I’ll be honest I don’t know wtf possessed me here