HOLDE MINE HAIR
ye olde partie times
Verily, thou art such a lightweight.
Things ye can’t: even.
Thou only liveth once
untapped aesthetic: surrealist jock
a varsity jacket but it has three arms and it’s melting
your football shoulder pads have grass growing out of them and they constantly hum
you shove nerds not into lockers, but into other planes of existence. your football is always singing, singing, singing. the astroturf changes colors beneath you, and whispers the name of every person you’ve ever loved.