Friday, November 12, 2021

 Bang Bang banjo dingo dangling a dangling with a feather pillow smattering along with Her, my Darling oh we sing —  Madam for you I have a right tight ring for your leftmost pinky, eating a Twinkie with

the Pinkie up, and miss drink of your cup, the pathway of the Nissan “Pathway Finder” Standing right aside her- noticing by chance to dangle and angle off the angel, rainy clouds, being Loud and not

Shroud Stroon Spoon Shrewn Sherwsbury Catholic School for 5 grand a year, pay the lunch lady land with the mop on her hand of a simple pickup, take the Truck, and the Tank, with Hank, him to thank for ‘a’ my, my oh my, a Paris pizza pie, at my Bank in France overseers harvesting the happenings of white barren wombs of wombats and women when I add them the Adding Adidas and additional ad - vert 


ramp, on some Tini Tize-ments Tinkle Tower at this very hour, or an ornament adorned with the owner of fluffy grey hair, the one who is to care, looking down unapprovingly of wet sticky hair, in the


sink... and wearing a Mink fur of hairs with an EMT who really cares, no death for me or me the He of the Leicester matter, sleeping on a mattress to rest on one’s eyes after with your and My credit-card declined, of bullshit hacked purchases, what gives? I don’t want to have any kids!!! Barren tomb of a bleach monsoon down south, Trident in my mouths, to feed, with my need... and with a single seed 


the gift of fruity, dancing goes the black girl named Roh-die on TV in the dark, be careful where you park, nest to a violet-cranberry Cadillac, hit the gasoline, we’re sitting sighting and but SIGHING instead of “Signing” on the dotted-line hot off the bench-presses we’re a malignant mess, with a receipt signed by Jess. a madam new to Tocci and with capered sushi a TV dinner we have a winner in pink, soap on the bathroom sink, with EZ Clay Spray to the Wildest of may adorn a bedfellow biting the pillow, hill of hills with vertical drop-shoot spills the beans on the Gluteus Flutes in Nissan’s sure serif, singing, if, and only if, with a thin mother Tiph white hen a beckoning with balls I’m breaking them seen on to Green! Go! Light circle of a Gumby storage signal, comfotrting the sullying Saleen Musgtang  twang in between the bosoms of my Mother Earth, I wouldn’t like to ever give Birth, out of a peter-petri dish if you insisted, on the inside, I swallow my pride, of a Bitcoin(s) investment in 2013 or 2014 premature


Maxima’s arriving late today’s current reciporical repository to get the Respiratory long story an STi on the road, my lawn at my house, Dad keeps mowed, with a Mode; Model Mold Mod off and be a cat in the house meowing and whole-cowing it, to Tip one soon, Alice, to the moon of Maternal Madness Gluteus Glutes and with gowns down to the Maximus, of this precipise of spice on the riff- put out that Lit Spliff, with Tiph to tantle longer than the high-past hour, forlorn and worn, miss the coffee drinks, pouring hot water down the sink, so it doesn’t stink to the stuck mother fuck in the freezer a la an old Geezer, while listening to Weezer on the Chantilly Lace for a man to embrace, and a long song, belief with 100% bequeathed be wine belonging  to the owner of Palestine, with Jesus Christ the Monte Cristo watching Spice, inhaling Spice, but tonight do It twice, for a double bereft of a shotgun sawed short in baseball,  the bag, and stop, I am not a licensed cop, applying the Wily choke hold, while in the November months it’s cold, all of them,  to be about announced, and Anonymously- this is the shining light of my princess hun (Justine Aragona) I have won!

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