My fans and “hits” are greasy and greedy, while I’m unsure of Mr. Deedy—why is he teaching even after what happened doing horrible things to me?
Gay FAGGOTS and bereft braggarts (“braggers”) looking elsewhere than what Peter paid thirty dollars of religious currency to sign up for “Brazzers”—what a fool—we hooked up on eachother, his soul, my soul, and soon after that 1 time, or twice?—am I recalling things nice? or NICELY? pen in the ink jar, you know, those little holders of, and if to shrink, how aughtright I am not to drink a sip, non-violent with a phat lip on the Curious-Tip being my abilities of memory and commotion, they’re startled from The Beginning of that bullshit nonsense, pre-tense pretended and secure, but hold the door or leave it unlocked—what oughtright discrepancy get’s the best ‘o’ me and delighted, pleasantries, smoke deez trees!
No THC in maybe 3 years, also not a sip of any beer
Cheer me on the forelong temptress of a canopy harness—like my Mr. Deedy, his place in Boston with A GAY SEX SWING! nailed to the roof and Saint John’s sitting there in Shrewsbury, MA—they were aloof of what he was like, enjoying the Seat on a Bike and a meal of Burger King, “Big Kahuna Burger” and E.D. “Tadalafil” medication, having been increased of my request—keeping real weight and bodyfat off my belly, medium-size, I see with double double vision. vision.
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