Staying in the Right (Lane) Blinker—where the nit-pick nipples, it tickles!

Seeing Shimmering Stars—all over Israel—but running out of ammunition, on-coming with a bright ’n’ shiny, near and dear Molotov lit up with a lighter, it’s a bottle of Willy’s (Allies) cough-syrup sipped with a whine, all winding and winning—singing with the Chiming and Rhythm the entirety of musical notes, are needing be kept safe, for Pete’s sake, get the red tape and gag-ball ripped my lips—yeah my abuse that night of 2001 or 2002, been on the J. Crew where two and two is equal to a concept of count them FOUR “dry clean only!” lessons the stank whettens on a pro-choice pusher and a choosy poster for harnessing more in the saddle—keeping at the addled attention like a DEFICIT—I want to fix it, cornering the pavement, 4 Coroners making a mystery of one life in a remainder of days—only one occasion introspected, the spectacles and bulbous tested—testes and with some testaculastic, emphatic confabulation, that’s fantastic, a candle wax ass to lift, so picking it up, raising it vertically Tantric say some so, there and away we go, only on a need-to-know basis as Stacey sojourns through space and time, smaller than a penny = a dime, that’s a small steel circle, on the grind, XMAS wishes, no Grinch found, John “DEERE” aligned like a preposterous label with a shot of “Johnny Blue” the Walker I once used

To get me around, clank-clank-clank—rehabilitated brain I thank, I thank, I think—I know that southern comfort blows, below “Southern” sojourned like an Institutionalized visit, fitting perfect with this girl right here we’ll call her, how about, ‘Jessica’ because that was her name

Her being mostly choosy picking, she picked me, a choice babe to slay, home far away, waiting for me outside the Tewksbury Psych Ward for many months, when I HAD THREE HOT BABES, GORGEOUS GIRLS weaning for me, leaning up against me, the three of them blipping the radar, lipping—deep-throating me, the hottie me, yeah three skinny chicks with clean pretty faces kneeling at my feet—seated salty, so I heard it from them, taste come me the “1” and at all, we would dance and spin—I fell down one time though lol they thought it was funny—but my dented abilities like the balance of my walking, the tone of my talking, and a silly sort of way I laugh out loud

My laugh is like no other—and I CAN’T HELP IT!—I giggle in a high-pitch emanation of Octaves, other another October, other another OTC (over the counter)—I laugh at the top of one’s sense, “TREBLE”—when I would tremble as per a lack of exercise, albeit for push-up’s and sit-up’s I would do with the THREE GIRLS loving me, meeting Sabina’s Dad when he said, “Let’s not get her pregnant, okie? okay?” and he respected me, for having those them “3” I fulfilled my fantasy—like hooking up with Laurie, several years ago, in a limo—my birthday treat—The Sole Proprietor: EAT!