Some of you know what has shamed my discredited "Recovery" and what it means to me to be BETTER, so go and get her, medications from Ember and Elise, my late pills, they don't give me on time! *shrug*

👨

When once upon doing the “Dougie” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAfOBSW-YFs) and shaved skin ever so clear a la the astringents, you see what the Sir has meant by “Yessiree Jeffrey!” You know me and my accredited beings in the Meta-versed freely and pie-crusts endearing, thus nearing the end of the metal plate put in my left hip-bone $BONE invested, bareback set-up when I endured sexual abuse from my gay English teacher, the Mr. John Deedy so needy for a drug-induced latency not happening with his chosen Fix, watch him with the licks, likened to his butt being so “betwixed” with the priority of getting off, I was so limp, so soft, so stringed by his charming ways—pants at my ankles—Astringent... with something swindled and so being “IT” with my enuff said ‘muffin’ of that one night, and my fright at the thought of my Dad finding out, it was more than his mouth, driving and drifting DRUGGED, traveling southernly when he urged me on, with his ploy of illicit substances, I wanted to be at the dances of Saint John’s—the girls with their nylon thongs ON! then shrinkings of silk so shocking my abused body being prodded and penetrated, that I hated so I SCREAMED and I cried seeking help, me bereft of lady-like stature and big breasts on the gal’s chests, pectoral muscles being at-rest under, such nips iced up calling by mind and violated behind—now in the past—but still fearing that feeling of being crushed on the hardwood floor, I couldn’t take it anymore with his fingers in my mouth, instilling fear I bit his hand as hard as I could to get him to stop right there Mister—I told my Minister with a droopy face of solemn sincerity, surely he prayed for me—although I doubt he believed that mine night of me, open wide and take it in stride, something he said, but that was not the end—the end was November 2, 2004 when I endured more than I could handle, and my Stockbroker now, Dan, my “Cuz” with a Mickey Mantle 1950’s baseball card—he called Saint John’s—after hearing about what I endured, and me not wanting anymore—that again, but maybe a little oral-sex from a Jehovah’s Witness old friend with what injuries I had, and him similar, simple as that, coming inside the restaurant door of my favorite place to eat—I thought of Laurie G. while he was oh please, Peter, you on your knees—and him, with a grin- to be enjoyed of fancy delights, when Pitch (lol) Black (no Africa please) at night—after being sun-down darkened skies, the nighttime lights up my eyes with screens of leaking creamy pied—Peter the thoughts of him overriding Mrs. Neas and our time together—written briefly tick-tick-toK—feather when the Heavens then of my 23 days and nights of 2 and 3 dear AND DARLING, these girls, hearts stirred in SOLO Cups, and that’s enough about that—you should read all 20 pages—c’mon it’s oh-so artistically AFT and Caring to design me in new thoughts of the years-ago enjoyment seen here:

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/

Spilt the slap-shoddy Dinner bill in half, my craft of being not so fast—I’ll pay the bill and you cover the tip in quarterly revenue, recently, the Bitcoins and Stocks, of me, of mine, this when I DON’T DRINK 2016 so no wine, making me turn up my knows- steering clear of dusty bottle fellows falling off the stool at the antiquated BAR to be passed, the lawyers highly paid and showing some sass but not smoking grass, that, alas:

I better get to class

I’m being harassed

"Pray Away The Gay"

...hmm is that an AIDS/HIV book advocating disapproval the queer lifestyle?

no offense! 👀