Eyes wide “Shut your Mouth”

Upon arrival of [ The Messenger ]

Eyes of The Disciple but dis -ur- spected by the Bedlam, Rusty Jones, when it goes, flossed in minty flavor, whoest be the Holiest Savior? (with Jesus out the door, read about “Parthenogenesis” and the regularity of “virgin-birth”) and do it in the better butter of Betty Botter — ask Deborah Marquis, my Mom, for a lot of fun ’n’ good times nearest and meandering- counterbalancing the computer laptops, of mine, my 3 dot-com’s and 2 writing blogs-  and Tranquil to the Stars allowances, creeping great creation, in this my USA Nation!

Becrept be kin and be-est beckoning shrouded still, and still, I want more friends, God please, God, and Google, give me more friends!

Arriving upon the Destination: a Doctor’s hands in the O.R. that well, or it could be the zest of flaky goodness through and through, with the human SHIFT, upon the founded freedom of not having to worship God—Righteous non-believers ask Justin Bieber when on-board to take the gravity train- holding us to the ground beneathe and breathing life into a choking man or woman, in a restaurant heaving and ho-ing, down the wrong pipe, separate from my trivial amount of smoking my 4” end-pipe, a Doctor said to me wasn’t a big deal, but the Choke (a book by Chuck Palahnuik), in the neck of a swallowed vocal accord—albeit a Honda—have a bright light to driving with day-light savings, the flash-roids of winter coming quick, pick up sticks scattered across the lawn, pretty pond I’ve lived on and is my real home (Charlton, MASS) always having attended Church on Sunday Morning—Holy—although Jesus Christ, a simple “Virgin Birth” (Parthenogenesis in Science) — it’s a hardcore disbelief as with him I have set a great example of writing on exams in Psychology I with Dr. Scruggs, plenty of hugs, ignoring the other students, wholeheartedly <3 when oncoming to the []Deace of buttered buns, all for used, hun, this is me all me all me writing so ripe and ready for a paradigm shift, seeing thanks and thankful, for linking my prose, I do know-s knowest the Crest Cavity of a sugar-sauce E. Pluribus Unum to pick a number when one lays still moaning from what-UNDER a calf and the Mom’s udder, of watering flowers—my writing POWERS of harnessing readers and leaders of the world—Indian and American’s—how many of the Mexican’s are set to stay, Domestic and passive

This when “God” is on the one-dollar bill, and thanks to the truth I have been lucky enough to know Mr. Booth maybe mad at me now—done-up “crypto” with Dan’s sign, “OH NO!” then being tricked into things of thinking it had “crashed” that what’s this line and word being the citizens of the United States of Americans and God, holds true with www.HannahHouse.Net with lions at the Zoo and Lunar LANDER’s in the black brain of...

Colonel Sanders!