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