I received an "A" in Psychology I at Worcester State University, and an A- Poetry II, B+ Creative Writing, B+ Health I, B+/A- Communications I that which all of these high grades were *AFTER* my brain injury, and I've talked to Elon Musk, Bruce Fenton, and Vitalik Buterin on the phone AND online, along with many other couple other people, people, WAKE UP PEOPLE !!!!! :^D

Work in to protect and Profess to my Psychology professional “Prof.” and on the beach “Baywatch” with the well-known David oh-la-la Hasselhoff

He’s not a nerd or flipping “the bird”—gallows of Sea-gulls to roam French fries, dropped, of David Hasseling a Hoof, to Bow (and King-ly) hooves on what Cows? And the whore-says all saggy singing with a $20 tip scored, considered WINNING in Main South—projects protected with plenty of po-po POLICE—stashing on SPEEDERS—and smashing in front doors (usually in them “projects” . . . With what challenges Dodge “charger” going farther, but including the necessary fees bringing a welfare patient to pull out the CBD pills and his/her EBT card, paying for the gasoline “The Pipeline” with what’s left of a scratch ticket spree... that used to be ME myself and bass fishing trophies on my shelves, giving pleasantries to the lawyers and to what’s ELSE Mike Pence? . . . wearing Khaki’s to my Catholic High School where I was popular and cool, playing it cool, $5,000 / year for the School . . .

www.saintjohnshigh.org where I was Class of 2000 with my 1080 SAT’s, so nicely!

And when will I finally be given my mail—they take my mail and MY BUSINESS INFORMATION, THAT I RUN A BUSINESS CURRENTLY: Google “JMRQ Heavy Industries” and that Alas, I don’t like “big Butts” strongly and strangely rearranged causing a reaching chemical and “Therapeutic” REACTION: a fashion line of business soots of top-notch noticeability—all for me—with them DKNY dress-shirts and plenty of ties, but not Bow and instead “Bo” knows best, augmeatnation so NEAT to blow up the boobs, swimming swinging and singing, with holey Hula-Hoops and Cristen Houlihan, she lent a “hand” but not her dental cavities, when, this when, when, she would only kiss me once—and that’s it, so I wasn’t all the way there—to “IT”—and the alarm clock-ed it sits, waiting for the time of a wake’ful bake-ful an AWFULLY ERRATIC BE-ALARMED with chirping beepers, my speakers’ “Tweeters” and I’m on Twitter accruing $SHIB with my buddy, the great, “Elon Musk” talk to him, I must remember everything in that call—in the spring summer winter or fall—to trip in the hall—the Bitcoins, MY Bitcoins... I want them all!

My teeny-weeny schweeny encompasses much of my sandwhich White While in my House, being it’s named “Fluff” its sugar, picking a booger so squishy—that wishy-washy taste in your lips—from time to time—we all do it and I’ve don’t done mine but not all of the time at 4:20 EPDM dingo-dulce I me be of the Mont Blanc post-lays... PO-TAY-TO CHIPS so a teensy-weensy bit of sodium salt—it’s on you upper-lip to dip the chips on in the “Ranch” white sauce, that beautiful, beautiful SAUCE of spliced Pepperoni and Honey Ham, sliced and THIN—I am at a fantastic but my weight—about 165 lbs.—hoping for $159 lbs. to mash to mess with the refinement of Royals wearing Ties Why’s I so Wise potato chips—carrot Dips—like living in the Boonies... that movie The Goonies... then off to NEU in Boston, that’s NEU and which I failed, hard panic-attacks me feeling like my heart and brain would explode—like the bomb package there yesterday in Boston that’s just awesome it wasn’t a killer, but causing 1 injury it was Deez Nuts!

This my Ode to the Masses—successful and Prologue “professional” studying the studies—the students and matters of who cares if I’m JW.org now Jehovah’s Witness—PETER IS GREAT AND HE’S ON-E OF MY CLOSETS AND FRIENDS, never X’ing off his chat-window, clutching the Capo’s canopy of tall trees in the breathed in-and-out BREEZE to snatch the aerosol canisters in my Pad—no more Febreze and fertile Over Me’S on the choice chick, my #1 pick—JUSTINE—with my bro and his name drop the “E” letter of having me addressed the internal-ecstasy of fulfillment with the tight brown hole, my whole fantasy harnessed, laying facedown—us two—all night long for about 7-8 hours, that we then took a shower, and doing it once again—like with her Mom—I said, “Sing A Song” with me protruding pronouceably ambled and addled, as I HAD IT beyond God!

I’ve been to the edge of space—in that Tantric “realm”—and me at the Helm when I needed help thereafter—come 8 East: https://jeffreymarquis.com/2021/08/11/this-is-an-alternate-version-of-my-8-east-stay-with-jessica-tocci-and-carina-ricciardi-who-i-spent-23-days-of-spending-every-waking-hour-with-them-in-our-trio-and-i-was-in-heaven