Intuitive Banter of Nightly Clammoring — I prefer mussels over CLAMS !!!

I also prefer LOBSTER “Claws” over any other seafood because I’m prudent in my nutritional reservation and the premonition, “CoVid-19” and “Elon Musk” and Bitcoin multi-millionaires in 2005

My "Distant" parents but absolutely NONE of the dismal distain of what there’s absolutely not any of that attitude-clash, because I love my Mom and Dad—I want to buy a house in early hours of my recently years now, being 3.5 hours away from my “Health-Proxy” parents, that’s nonsensical and our love is intrinsically—automatically—so no fighting on the phone and I don’t be bad to my Dad... or Mom... when singing a sing-song, croaking along, with the Clearance of FREE WATER from a “Well”, and that’s how I learned to play 2x “Hockey Sticks” for fun and chatter, that banter I hope I’m not “banned” from the Olympic Committee with my buff, and big body realization, I’m bigger, larger, taller, strong-arm’ored than most in the USA Nation — that I grew 3.5” taller and my arms, hmmm them both for a whopping 2” longer arms, I mean no harm, but upon pushing Derek Langlois...

he asked me, "HOW DID YOUR ARMS GET SO MUCH LONGER?????"

I'm Wide on “The Web” and when fed instead of unkempt (unknown to all but Elon Musk 2005...) I run 3 dot-com’s ever since so long ago, I wrote them up nicely and unmodified—but my enemies modified my pages as my heart and hate for the jerks who caused me my cost a good part of my life—I was wishing for Allyson to settle down with, alongside an Apartment at Chandler Gardens, all people of merely Pawns, just then, just in 2005 to 2007, check my “Public Ledger” and “Private Ledger” I created with help from Danny B. who I now (lately) and want to SEE or hear his voice, as it is my choice to talk with 1 of 2 men who handle my vast “riches” of perhaps $$,$$$,$$$ quantity, that my Dad—my Dad is a really, so much, so great, so businesslike, so he would take me for nature hikes and he bought me a great bike for $650 in Junior High—all that with my childhood guidance to try hard in Elementary through Middle School—but I put it on Cruise Control at Saint John’s when I did one level lower than the “Honors” classes I started with, choosing what was easier, breezy running I would do in 9th grade for almost 2 Semesters, but I quit XC later Freshman year, being freshened and coming forthright first, when I haven’t had to raise a fist in recent time, with no wine, with no whining, the alternate area-code I be “declining” when alerted to an alternative phone-number I’ve never seen before—and I was “Assistant Manager” at a popular few chain-stores of GNC, that is, pre-"wrxtbi" MY "2004 Subaru WRX Traumatic Brain Injury"

https://wrxtraumaticbraininjuryjeffrey.godaddysites.com/

Sitting still my hair still there—almost all of it—I would throw a fit if I had to shave my head—so instead I keep it at a precise length TO HIDE THE SCARS ON MY HEAD!

My hair, my beard, my squirmy CURLS (for the girls), my hair is almost all there—I don’t have a haired chest, but that’s for the best—my MARQUIS grandfather, well he had a hairy back, taking it back to what my Dad told me—my MARQUIS grandfather—he died before I was born, and my Dad had elite classes at where but Holy Cross 88.1FM for musical tunes and a talk show I called them on the phone, so getting on-air while drinking—but I didn’t swear because I was thinking, of Christ and Chris Delvecchio in 2004, the Holy Cross radio station I spoke loud to Worcester, MA! oh hey

I'm being DRAINED OF MONEY, with zero pain, so I guess that's okay, me not feeling dismay, so hay is for horses' power in the awesome Tesla

To Go and to Meet on the street

My soiled and quick-skinned feet

Like nothing else but a wanna-be

Discriminant nigga’s and G’s

Oh deez, it’s the mouth on me

And filled with String cheese

Goodness glory it’s a chase

Showing shodden face

I’ve forecasted with what LV called my “Third Eye” earlier, my third eye... My legit phone-calls with Mike Lindell (!!!),  Elon Musk (!!!), me predicting "CoVid-19" picking the 18+ number, hours on the phone with Bruce Fenton the Bitcoin millionaire who ran for Senator of NH, and calling Facebook when they were creating it, me knowing a “Developer” I tried sending about $200 in the mail! I’ve had them on the phone to chat with—Mike Lindell was in Mexico and Elon Musk was waiting for a plane for 40 minutes of talking to him... which I may have met him TWICE! I said, "Bitcoin!" and quickly walked away after asking him about using a Libretto I knew what that laptop is and how it works because I have used Linux in so many variations, me the Computer Science major with an Associate's Degree from QCC

I bought $10 worth of “Facebook Gifts” THREE TIMES = 30 gift icons... I used, sending them to millionaires with businesses, mentioning my Dad’s company if they needed plastics/polymers! and then sending so many to cute models-only! I wanted to stir the stew up with Facebook, with special privileges and owning dot-com’s with hundreds and thousands of visits to my pink forum later renamed to “The Poetic Voice”

Arranged and deconstructed denounced of splendor so savored The Savior I live without a trace of me having been BITCOIN ENTRANCED—meeting at the entrance and stirring what’s not available for show—don’t you know what remains hiddened and denied wafers of The Nile—which This is The Theater class when very few at the Catholic High School of Saint and John’s teacher Deedy, well, he tricked me!

He liked me!

Now I’d say “Take a Hike” which speaking of an avid Photographer and Hiker with a Mountain-Bike Bill, I posted this on his wall that came out long:

• I have a ton of basketball cards from BARCELONA olympics
  
  And you'll notice that it says "ELON" of BARCELONA -- my best friend he told me, I quote, literally he said these words to me, "I can be your best friend every day if you want!" and then I said to him, "Can I be your best friend?" and he said, "I already have a best friend and I've never even met you." So I said, "I want to be your best friend for this phonecall!" So he said "I guess that's fine but I want to know more about you first and what you know about Space." I attended "Astro Camp" in Oxford, MA one summer when I was young, and I sent him the photo of my totaled Subaru WRX when he treated me like a lot nicer, so I said, "Elon stop flattering me I'm not retarded and I'm a millionaire through my Dad who keeps 90% of it secret from me and my brother Justin Marquis, but he was quote-unquote "glad" about that, and I told him to talk to a doctor about growing taller he wasn't interested in growing, that I wanted to be as tall as Derek and Brian, who, they told me, "Stop it with the proteins, we don't want you as tall!"
  
  Years later they shrunk my legs and arms, which I impressed everyone at the gym with how strong my "Core" was with a huge chest
  
  When I said "I'm not a retard," he was disappointed, but I was at a young age and he said, I shouldn't be racist when I grew to be in my 30's and 40's -- he understood that a 95% high school of Saint John's with nearly no Blacks would have an impression on me. I asked him about SAT's and he scored higher than my FOUR NUMBERS BIG hehehe 1080 score in high school at Saint John's, that, once again I love how popular I was going to parties every weekend, and so much fun was had with my classmates in Shrewsbury, MA and Tim Lambert is really cool, like Grant Marshall and Mike Linde in my homeroom with none-other than Brian McNeil who was mad that I was getting a somewhat sorta "Luxury Apartment" nearby named Chandler Gardens I was happy at with an extra room and finally I could drive a Ford Explorer from 1996, my parents owned!

• 
  
  
  Barcelona = "ELON" in the basketball card picture, Google: BlueWhale0073

I want you to read about my favorite place to Vacation in The Bahamas, a small island, ocean fishing for Dad!

Sniffed out Brandy snifter with a Rolex and pay-day checks requiring for sure, a signature of Mother Earth taking some hurt from “smog” and the “snobs”—like me—thinking of Bob and Bob the Green Turtle Cay pair

Here’s a brilliant “Travelogue” I got an “A” on with Dr. Walker of literary fame, but he passed away—aww such a shame—having given me an B+ in Creative Writing, I’m up all night with my laptop, my thing, and the Resident whatshername anonymous, singing and signing, a bright white light, it opens up SKY-SIDE

And here’s a great essay I wrote: “Green Turtle Cay”

http://www.alwayschillen.com/042406-bahamas.htm 👦

Glossy lips, cookie between the hips, and racing for "pink slips" *vroom-vroom*

Taken of mine Crown with French Ancestry, hoping to get some weights lifted within, coma-laden 3 weeks, my eyes unable to open but for peeps and shouted the loudest, of voices, some sinners present (I.C.U. at UMass) with their painful prodding and punching the comatose ME, as great as I could be, time being only temporary, and surgeries lifting me to the highest peeks flithy people surrounding me and causing me immense pain—November 2, 2004—I received a Traumatic Brain INJURY that the darkness of dreaming delightly out-of-sight for me, the exterior of “Intensive Care”—jerks wanted me to never recover—unable to stand—their suffering in my one working hand, my right-side recovered but a PARALYZED LEFT SIDE OF MY ENTIRE BODY—flying with Boeing and boo-ing with Jerry’s Ben’s “jeers”—later turning into cheers of my friends and Marquis-only “Family” I made them proud but little did they know I was with Allah (1/2 times) wearing a Shroud, that, remember, some doctors were proud but some of them really, really SHITTY, to me, the victim of a “Their Plan” gone wrong... 2004 I hate the fucks who pleaded, “KILL YOURSELF IF YOU NEVER FUCKED A VIRGIN!” so I did, with what inclement weather, Mercy on my Mom and Dad—they tried to stop my enemies, A. and A.—knowing they were dealing with what me butt-raped in 2001/2002 roughly, and a faggot, well I chose not to be—I didn’t enjoy it—I’m not a homosexual and I love women the most of all AND NOTHING “TEEN”—me to be too old to be with one of them talk about absurd and surely, 30 year-old Shirley praying to not Temple but Mecca, me the Islamic, having pulled a switch-a-roo on who but the fools who believe in Jesus Christ (Google: “virgin birth”) “Parthenogenesis”—there have been many all-natural “Virgin Births” dubbed out of the lime-light, me ignoring Jesus Christ—a simple “virgin birth” that happen sometimes but rarely—so and so, I worship Allah and God who “work together” with a giving lover total-body O’s you know, *ghasp* in a chasm an oral retraction from the man who raped me in 2001/2002 one night during the Holiday CHRIST-mas season, for one Hell of a reason, to wine and dine in a fine drug’s applause, sweet and shod, up my nostrils it went and all night I spent, time with sex-sex-sex Mr. John Deedy—he raped me—but I was cool with a Jehovah’s Witness (male) going South with his Mouth—that Peter didn’t want to stop—and my wish to see L. Griffin—it was nulled as per her leaving—so Ellie here at “Averte” does weaving—I bought her a designer bag for her yarn and yearning to impress me, bereft of a lady’s laying contact with what Justine Aragona’s face would light up at a nightly sight, “PEE-PEE” and we were all smiles! =)

I talked to Mike Lindell the MyPillow guy on the phone when he was in Mexico, that addict, in 2005/2006 when I suggested fabrics from THE NILE or The Middle-East producing pillows fast—him buying a trailer truck I take credit for, since I told him my Dad had three trailer trucks at his $36,500,000 ECM Plastics, Inc. about 1 decade ago, you know?

Cringing so hard and but never, ever crying of what to be, dining?

Me signing my special oh-la-la Signature for a nigga-nigga catching a shot of what in the head-spot, cranial symphony, no names named or Viagra of such Niagara Falls growing grass and tipping a topped-off glass of Tonic when awaiting a Hypersonic delivery and I, shaking in my socks, niggers with Glocks and German Lugers, the liquors and licorice I cease to subsist as a low-life kind of addict sucking on a bottle of Seagram’s sauce, once again, a new glass topped off, feeling rough ’n’ tangle to trot in the hotspot of a speedy Wi-Fi when the silk is fine and the night is nigh... singing a *sigh* as per the absence of my MMJ—to be renewed—a bodily part, pro-treated perused paper pages, colored, peeping Playboy when pre-18 yer’s oldie and golden with textbooks sodden from what a high school?

Let’s negate the fateful farewell of this infamous “Columbine” with years and decades in time.

Mom drinking her glass of white wine to squash the green grapes of SUPERMAN’S CAPE.

Saving the day with gleeful antics, in a house with an attic and a lower-side crawlspace.

We’ll all see what comes to be having launched from the world’s finest foreigners, Bantering Bankers and my John Deere (many Stocks) with Antlers mounted in a VP’s office, shooting the bucks, taking in the cantankerous you and I we are now known as the “US” to absorb a Funding of “Trust” with a Pellegrini pelvic throughout-kinda Thrust of benging L. in the warmest shower and then cold, to last, many minutes of what to interupt—the voice of my girlfriend that called to an end of L. and I ween-ered *wishes and sighs* the time was Nigh and bright post-swimming poolside, her implants had me eye’ing—them of her short Mom—she would hem her pants with scissors, I recommended taking them to a seemingly professional “seamstress” and that was best with her well-dressed... her dresses and mini-skirts I would flirt and feel her face with a kiss, but once, when I felt her truest trust in me, with who I hope to have a bride-to-be, forgetting about any Tea at times when coffee suits me best, although it’s been many mounting mountains of months with-out a push-up’s done as I’m unmotivated to get hot ’n’ sweaty in my Apartment here at “Averte” where, and they, treat me alright I’ll say: “I SUPPOSE” but a crack-addict with a withered brain punched me in the nose!

How long will I subsist with my corporeal fitness here 3.5 hours away from my “Health-Proxy” parents?

Parts on Clearance:

I worked at Home Depot for a few hours and I didn't like it, so I left the store and my Mom picked me up lol

When such to one dragging feet and getting a wooden splinter, but highest in spirits—unknown culprits rioting and looting—and playing postponed with a BBQ ribs on a $BONE semi-salted, Walden faulted, carrying the crutch of what so much when sipping the sauce of moistened most, most, most, my money I put up a “Toast” to hospitalized-time parting ways with any advanced “Partying”—sum skin on skin—to release the inner-beast of what canal with yellowed $LEASH of best wishes, my Dad catching fishes ><> <>< with shoes tied tight, sleeping with socks on (or off) all them toes tapped (shin splints to tape when running comepetedly) Trident trying to smudgen a key-scratch on a car’s handle “JMRQ Heavy Industries”—do you get it?—I’m a milli a milli a milli with what Miley Cyrus does to get the cash, showing off her ass, and paparazzi harrass-to-the-ing with a toe-ring tootsies—not fetished by feet—walking down the street with under-boob showed off and showered, last night, at an early hour of not waking until the Sun Comes Up and “The Sun Goes Down” with a Facebook “The Social Network” me seeing in theaters TWICE, that was nice, when later buying the Blu-ray disc, my PS4 at home—I don’t miss it—when Holy beats on the dance-floor:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hOwLkZZdYY

Taking a sunken dip in the club when once the hub-bub calms down, clamming cantankerous—to take her out—the foreign diesel, I would delicately paint with ease of a stood-up right Easel, and on Easter, prepare the hemisphere (with braided hemp) a secret kept and lonely—I remain not too horned—sometimes thinking asunder and lonesome, washing my naughty bits with Dove’s “moisture”—being Justine’s favorite soap washing her body, tightest up-close to me, ever so delicate-ly when “Opening the Gates”—lo and behold and glory be restored, having worked retail, retarded and “slow” mentally SET AS A “SNAIL” slowed down with what I like, 1995 a $650 bicycle, bike, mountain type bike to steer clear of muddy puddles—Mr. Blasius knows the nature rides and hikes—bird with a caught frog—ailing in sun on a lily pad, so rad, but tossing them high in the air, when I was but a young buoy, that was bad as it jangled the bullfrogs on bull horns—a Bull Market—the Bitcoin Whales profiting, helping me out with millions USD—I am who you once will have wished, to be like me—getting in early FINANCIALLY 2005/2006 “Bitcoin Conference” joined and stirred-up loins to plow the mowing the front Lawn, akin to a mower, a mover, watch me as I hover, on top of one girl, then another, THEN ANOTHER, yes 3 girls a-ten 

and eaten inside at 10 p.m. when sleeping all day, to ignore the bulletin boards of skating on ice, that once again, I HAD THE THREE, THE THRICE, third-so thriving, but not driving, not for a while...

I plan on buying a Tesla Roadster.

I told my Cousin Dan B. to put down the $50,000 “Reservation” as I’m a millionaire one who cares to have won everything under the Sun—but it exploded—was that my doing ??? Or was it Allah ?????

I’m saved. Once again, the sun and the Solar System, it blew up, beyond my doing my happenings my long big-shining slow-on show-on one, that I looked back and I was beyond The Blast, that in 2013 I witnessed something special! On my way I made it through the Big Bang that was intense, always accelerating at what I know as "A million billion trillion lightyears per millisecond!"

Money multiple millions do my thrilling, and Insurance pays my Dental "Drilling"

Dancing and, with or without rain, like a Sirloin Sizzler, and playing Twister with Twisted Tea and I... to what be, that hummm, maybe a bird or a “Bitcoin Whale”—that I see—me with so much hidden money, and William Mahoney my Accountant being to protrude, that unanswered questions I have never been rude, with attitude, to who but him—my parents have their vim—their way—to be lead astray—of Ember’s beauty and that beautiful FACE with a seizure, when I write for purely my leisure- again Dancing with words, and Allah in Space, reaching through The Creator’s place at the edge, Allah has my perusal and pledge to take me to The Edge:

Where you want to be: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONDxTK-aokY&list=PLXjISBGUSATVLK_ZqrGDyqQYLGy3Zvdui

I do this for me to write all night with what I learned in Vogue, the bare-breasted “Free The Nipple” nonsense to be a kissed via some barb-wire fence, and aurally surrounded with silence and screaming—the jerks in Mental Hospitals—playing Hop-Skotch to be absorbed and never “scorned” the skittish with a “Cookies” kitten being fed out a bowl, and in the kitchen, or prepared full-meals here, I endear my “John Deere” stocks, a donkey in a flop, that Justine “Ara” she had a flap in her skull to relieve and relay the mental TBI improvements, bit by bit (Torrent) and the valued Elon Musk—a horned and home-stead creature fuss, like Peter Sargent takes The WRTA “bus”—that he has no car—but he has a lot of Care to fill the air, a rat insnared drinking Ensure what for but a muscular figure—I don’t care for poor niggers as I went to a mostly White (alright) studying History all night—come Class of 2000—that my peers, them endeared, with what 20-30 Stocks in my possession, but hopefully not cancelled by my Dad—the tricks been had—he loves me!—and my Mom does too, sweetums and her cooking good food, that, is mostly restaurant quality—living at home in Charlton, MA again?—it may be benevolent and not receiving my $$,$$$,$$$ “Trust Fund” when me with only CBD — listen to that song “Where You Want To Be” of my favorite musical group of “Taking Back SUNDAY—hundred or so chosen by me, a Christian Church—that’s where I want to be—and I not believing Rev. Jim Chase really died, post-haste and kept kempt, a Rookie Card of Shawn Kemp and so many valuable sports cards of living long as “A Collector” while I Inspect My God-Chant, the Holiest Prayer, and you should know, I’m self-sufficing, TO CARE for those closest to me, that I beg you to hear the TBS song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GVCSkFU_n8

Be sure and BE COOL! and follow the rules

Erratically rush to pull a Royale in a Flush of the must-have luck, like a seasoned duck filet of being led astray with ashes of a sweet, sweet Grammy of conversation—her sitting still and solitary with her Tee-Vee sweater vest without a single “Vice” oranges and limes, a slice to sweeten up the sugar of an Iced Tea when I would also see Aunt Donna Donohue, and who- she cares for me, so sweet and the pounded chicken meat, to savor of what about the Cajun flavor and in the kitchen with the oven mittens, but bitter bitten by Bizmark—no bitey little pup—the clock looks up to Midnight dark as day, and in every salty single way, horses choosing the greenest hay in the pasture, put old Buttercup to sail away—or maybe a Mad Cow in dreary fields and how, to put down a B&W spotted CALF — a shot of a gun to the head, instead, unable to stand and old as an F-er a Heiffer—so clever sill-side—take the donkey (Kong) for a ride in the fields—the crops will fill their yields, feeding the need—the corn seeds of buttered and salted—but not going to Salter Schools of nursing or makeup or something, what Home Care here at “Averte”—when Sandy cleans, her paying for what she needs when years ago I would tip her on a weekly basis, static faces, when I wanted her to be on my side, proudly horsies gals-opting in Stride—a gum to chew, preferably Bubblicious blueberry sugared cubes, at the supermarket counter, the treats to be treated to a young boy or girl, the Twix caramel bars coming in packs of 2—twin chocolate Cholesterol—the time spent shopping, it goes by quick or seemingly very long, a wifey pressing into her thong, the audio of a song, to “Take My Breath Away” a la the band Berlin, sung within the movie Top Gun aircraft with Tommy Cruise—when I’ve been free of booze—me with no temptation to drink and tinkle—with what a whiff of a sailor’s armpits, while caught in a DRIFT, if you catch my riff, that cans of Pringles and sprinkled Sea Salt—the “Crypto-currency” of the “Alt.” tokens, smoken spoken without an insufflation of what medicine but Hydroxychloroquine!China and the “Chinese Disease” of Coronavirus causing congentation and contagious coughing in the wayside “Airwaves” being satellite driven on my SiriusXM radio, so rad, so raided shops of elevated helicopters, all in a Growing-Lab of the green—not seen—or by me to be free of smoking MMJ “Trees”—lavishly layden with Ironic Made-Then maybe, maybe MAY-HEM to cripes, trim the laces of too-long length of leg width wide that I already mentioned tall men and their grown legs, to “stride” in pride and power, at the 11 o’clock hour, and I up late, that waking in the morn’ and a Diet Red Bull to pull the strings on those skimpy undies- the THINGS!

What-so briefs amounting in the mounted Cherokee Chief—with my Chef, Irene, her at the oven—with sum Chinky food tonight, I be longtime, long-term loving the Oriental flavor prepared by short men and the women, then, in the Kung-Hung Fool imbibing hot tea at the one’s table, with white rice—the tasty Soy Sauce is salty salted (Sailor and Salter) sprinkled on slugs being an act of cruelty—think about it—what does it feel like for a slugger a la Louisville veiled, baking making the chocolate 

chip cookies—a cat to name “Cookies”:

Oh I wish they would get a kitten here at “Averte” where I be, casually dapper tapping at the clapping strength of who but Hulk Hogan—and me pecking at the white sheet and dark words—S-WORDS to the swerv-ed t’were it be absurd obsolved and the puzzle too tricky, playing a full game of Monopoly and monotonously buying Boardwalk to take a break, the truest Trudging, Treadmill Time, I do fine without any wine, when I choose not to whine about THE JERKS HERE GETTING INTO MY APARTMENT (!!!!!)

When you have a torn trinket floored and forlorn—my loins of a lion’s breadth—take a Loaf of “whole grain” goodness with smooches for musky mooses, catch gleeful foot-loose’s Bacon Brat with the on-state baseball batter swinging with a gruff full gulp and a burp, Babe Ruth played the bases with some beer—his grand slam, that favorite famous one, that would be the sum and of his rookie-card, worth a lot of money—view his signed bats with awe and awesomeness to hear and see best-dressed in a mid-riff uncovered—being of a solid lover!

Wear Sunscreen!

Snaking shaking and bacon to bank with Fleet, me sitting straddled-  on my feet, in dressy socks, so I look quite NEAT, and needy without Johnny double-D’s frightened, to ponder, of what was informal and un-sunder on a Saturday night—the hours long—trying on a ball-gagger of “Crypto” my investment, him somewhat Breasted, sucking his pierced nipples, so that maybe to let him sizzle in heck where the faggots wear hemmed pants to take off, avoiding his sued sexual “toys” and legitimate “Cuffs” while I was treated too rough and ready for my appetite, loosey-goosy, as to doodle with the dudes and their slinky noodles- being sipped when held upon a Spliff so lifted with what iron-clad whey and chocolately “Weights” on the Gym-Side, when such a Treadmill Stride like a pointed stick of chewey gum, taking it to Bruce who his spruced up Twitter and Facebook (but in revered court-orders!) my Senate-hopeful friend I rem-ember, and Him when I got the drift of True Religion alas The Holy Land, me lending a hand and that the, and, well to be me umber-joyous  Jeffrey or "Jeffry" (Jeff M) laid in full with a tip of the catcher’s mitt, the two stinky pitts, and on and on and on...

The cup of a lowlife drunk, sunk, and it stinks as much as what was “Rotten” dot-com so long ago, making waves on broadband with the Eminem standing—a little short—and always with a retort, returned to the turntables having been retired, retarded, that is all now computer schematics—get at them where the addled is—or be, when I come so sunlit “trees” to think about these in the order of the “exe” Elastics with the Old Skool yo, it’s coolio among the northern lights at night, may be trite and tied and try’d to find the downlow-est drumstick of a drummer eating in the country of Turkey, when to say, “Hi!” and “Hey!” to the street-laden ways and methods of speaking, get him to the Greeking, so often and not Weeping ass cracks and/or “panic attacks” I would have in Public Speaking at parties and such, when spreading garden-seeds and “Mulch”—my muscles and such, it sucks, and very Much to treat a tinker-bell having done Jr. High at Shepherd Hill the school of some Duds, soapy suds, showering sucks to SLIP and the season of Fallen Grandpa—drunk and felled

Fentanyl-ated in high spirits, his drooped drool dripping into a puddle—he’s getting drunk and addled, like a WWII battle, oh it’s ON, and I would love to see the greatness of God and Allah, that is to Be. . .

Puppy a snack, A is whack

Well get’ter up and peruse a pup being fleeting of fleas, along to a Market “Basket” filled and flowing but not OVER with what Rover on land or see, I bee buzz-ed not anymore—with what I enjoy “Red Bulls” of fanciful dance-y Royalty balls—dressed in B&W custom Tuxedo—and what to do you know, taking it slow, take it gentle or I have a Traumatic Brain Injury of Raised-In Bread, in stead to make my MENTAL’s investing in “metals” so heavy my hips the lips of a pocket and slipped in Silver ounces, along with JMbullion.com fashionables—that... again “Mental”—for I am a man with a powerful right hand—Designer Brand and beaches afloat the seaside SAND of what and “and” when coming out the spout of a customary, what about?

A streamy dreamy river's running a piece on "A Current Affair" fair and well, a Welch's jelly on toast, the most moist bread instead!

With the what’s of happenings, and carkeys jingle-jangle at a 90* angle emancipated to proclaim lain like a childhood prodigy who solves equations with elation and great glee—glad to meet you, atop a track-meet at a Christian High School, the SAT’s, and my Saint John’s Class of 2000—now foreign bunches of professionals with valuable possessions and married with (what I heard...) Islamic flavor of the in-bed capers of captain bum’s alteration to be Taint’ed by the married ones, yeah I heard most of my classmates were married and praising Allah with what tight spot but a wife’s plot!

And coming not one time- but twice, I think is nice, for a slipped split-up’s with the seated sit-up’s at you and I like it ROUGH and TOUGH, through the 802.11 “Router” of women smiling with their male peers, that winning one’s heart and special spot(s)

Good shot Brother Mann from a domestic distrust of my millions aside a “Trust Fund” which I used, just for FUN, with my #1 “Bestie Dan Besse” swiffering, smelling drift of the flowers in his almighty maybe power of over my $$,$$$,$$$ which I can’t stop smiling—the money I’ve made and the absence of getting laid, to be delighted on-screen, lubes obseen, deck-side and I take it in stride—the corrupt politicking when I quench the lick of my buttery lips, so smooth with The Movement—me hoping to buy a house on the same street as my loving and lovely, Mom and Dad—such a great overpowering attraction to this finded and found Marquis tombstone in the ground, my GRAMMY SOPHIE MARQUIS enjoying “the Afterlife” in Heaven, I’ve found as of Tantric happenings, me hoping to stay in the Big Bang accelerating while frantically savoring the flavor of a God (1/2) known in the Middle-Eastern EASTER, getting better and faltering none, with what within, and I with no sin, coming akin to the wavelengths of bereft Facebook: “Care” I’m full on top, my plentiful hair without any loss of teethed teetering—“My Teef”—now with what whitener in 2006, learned to live with the stains of cracked enamel—of my 2 official Aliases: "Jeff M" and "Jeffry" thanks to Dan, the man, he’s great we invested in all but $CAKE with the ache to take a long time rising 2021+ what’s the fuss?

I’m Sober and loving this lifestyle of writing notes so “wild” pattie-cake with a kiss on the lips, the girls with hips—my left hip was shattered into 7 pieces—thusly this I’m making a fist hearing the jerks screaming but not of themselves, they would have put my ashes (creamatorium) on a shelf, but NO- I ask that my ashes be spread in the Holiest really real “Realm” of Heaven-Sent, Israel, sprinkled there as FB: “Care” again, when I win the race of SpaceX—I said to Elon, “Space-E” unlike Kevin S. the criminal, I thought of Ecstasy to be prayed for in what but SPACE of X, Inc. and that jerk "Xi" I was seeing the Russian “Z” on tanks, that thanks to Mom and Dad ((( I LOVE YOU, BOTH !!!!! ))) and Justine my gave me my fave-o RITE girlfriend, all night long, her with underwearing a sing-song throughout thong of Viccy’s Secret—kept held close along the bright walking strides of the clock being a “Time-X” wristwatch with my Dr. Squatch luxury, designer soap sudsy advertises on T-V-  when the shower treats me sour and being unsteady (TBI) paralyzed left side of my body, my booty muscular, not too Shabby—way to go Ally and resident Mrs. Castronovos—she’s my friend on F-B- with what mental—and her totally sharded up arms—with what but her “cutting” and perusing the spill of the thrill to see a red fluid, drained from the body, as sad as November 2nd, 2004—in the rain with whet your tongue on the I’ve got to believe I’m alive when I thrive through such-and-suck this enamored TEXT...

SOME JERK DISABLED TEXT-MESSAGING ON MY BADLY HACKED CELLPHONE!