Finding words online like "collapse" (randomwordgenerator.com) and a random.org 0-100 #: "45"

Writing all nighting to Cedar Sketch—albeit etchings and my scars:

 

finely woven—they’re STITCHED, with a “Bad Hitched&Cock“ going “Psycho” ouch Alfredo past and offed when said to me this: “You be the one, I want to kiss and touch ever so mucho much!”

Scrunches caspered and awaiting the Sea-Side baking of Clams in my hands of The Captain to be HOOKED (on that awful Oxy) Continental endeavors absorbed when it’s drawn... that S-Word (“swords”) like Hoodie Shit and masks on the capered-criminal, being a Minority—the world is a better place without thee, of squinted chick-eyed yellow complexion or that blacking black and purplish skin of a soiled shade—go back to the Conti-menial spot named AFRICAN AIDS: a crisis along what ravages mo’ niggas den ISIS, spent the Bitcoin concoction me nocturnal mostly when staying up all nighty- I be writing about the girls who appear and appear as appeal-ingly forthright to swing by the “Averte” apartment, on-screen albeit only, “righty-tighty”- at the nightly get-go of fake hoes, that, well, at least I know they’re putting on a show—if only for the camera—getting laid and paid some hundreds, or some thousands, Mr. X’d out Branson with a mansion on his own island property—this while “Averte” they’re pretty good to me, made, I’ve got it made with Sandy, the “House Maid” of keeping order kempt in my Apartment

But I’m meant to live in the district of “M@SSHOLES” rooting on Nomar Garcia-pah-rah and applause while a Beaver at the Dam—gnawing on wood—“The Boonies”—not the city of Urban Fallacies—Oh yes, I keep it fancy with Polo and the most pricey ME privy to Macy’s in Auburn at The Mall, and then Starbucks—shots of Espresso so small, and so potent, I order the “Quad” 4X Coffee extract, Cappucino I don’t think so! and thusly stir the kettle of coffee in beans—the FREE WI-FI—I would suck dry the BitTorrent quickly-quacky speedy internet connection—Fuck the 56k on phone lines, that

AOL “Chatting” with now “Facebook Messenger” when fishing to catch a lady-bass with a red spot—eww, I hope now not to disturb the female flounders at a stressed hour of day when swimming saddled tail and fins—my Dad fishes tournaments for many, many WINS and wow his Trophy collection—time on the water—he does a lot of self-personal “Introspection” — Dad I’m so sorry your father, my deceased grand-dad I never got to meet him, and it made my Dad study a bunch, more than a “hunch” when seeing his Daddy fading—my Grammy (R.I.P.) not getting laid then, I’m so sorry I feel, but it made my own Dad persevere with A’s on what the Campus “report card” of Biology being ACED!

With my own Dad’s success I’m sure deceased Gramps would be the proudest, a Testament to Cancer, but I’ve found my answer of a LIVESTRONG father—never smoking, hardly ever drinking a beer—when I was within my worst of alcohol lightly-so “addiction” that I’ve crushed—for my parents, mostly—my drinking is no more, me with only 1 stripper-whore my parents probably are aware of, and I swear: never again will I fuck a paid-slut in the what? the what? YOU FUCKED HER IN THE BUTT ??? and with a condom on, I think I would be called “A John”—whilst that’est was some many years ago, and know this fact:

STRIPPERS ARE WACK!