The Crusades should have big Parades!

Medicated, I am staying 24/7, with medical medicines (aka medz) being delivered tomorrow when today I feel no sorrow as per the 1 Xanax I have left, and making it last until it’s time for beddy-bye as I sign my name it needs no refrain — JMarquis my custom sig, and the “heya step-sis” fucks should all wear a lay restless in Eternal Sleep with , and the pooping poo that take showers after cardio-workouts at Sim’s with an officer po-po police on HRT through a doc-tor, not a pop-star!

Popping bulging biceps to tell secrets being behind the apex of a college track-star like Eric Carlson my buddy not drinking Bud Light but me having waters with lemon’s and lime’s and without the Lyme infection as the clock Ticks, sucking blood out of a squishy bat- we have Ozzy Osbourne in a drug-induced haze like a man passing out going THUD!

Chunky chicks with spent-out hicks in the good ole country USA #1 with a Benjamin-dollar bill to pay the rent of a tent in the forest on a camping/hiking spree with Eastern Mountain Sports at the Greendale Mall when I sold vitamins and special supplements for bodily in-finetune, as Assistant Manager 2001-2004 under my Boss with the bodybuilder “Bod” of a God with abdominals showing after running on the treadmill, and my cousin Dan Besse, my stockbroker, hi Aunt Sue, just spoke with you in the location of the CT station on the rad radio so bad with what I had on “Shock-Jock” trash and worthy of a fit girls’es ass, without any Hell I am here to TELL you- shout at you- praise you- a Priest prayed over me, many of them, at my Catholic High School praising Jesus who suffered for me, and I do what I tell you is Truth at 151-Proof Bacardi at the party with part-time workers spending cash on the Blacks would call us “Crackers” with salt as I’m about to fall apart while retaining mental function in the Constipation Junction, screening phone-calls, leave a message at the Tone-d body of a funded stripper doing a strip-show on a late-night HBO porno!

Be poppin’ fresh with Sweet TARTS coming out of asses the donkeys owned by a farmer who’s a pale white honkey!

Really vastly faster I am the master of my 3 dot-com DOMAINS with the ‘Domina’ dominatrix determining the determination of the definition of “Solace” I pray for peace and great things to occur fervently with my Ibuprofen they steal from me, in this the Stephen King “Misery” with Wise clergy who will win with Winstrol aka “Winny-V” I have never taken and I want you to SEE:  I do a lot of good things like picking up my possessions and placing them in various places with pristine and professional “Placement” here or in school when I applied to Saint John’s taking the Entrance Exam, in a trance from the required bow-tie and slacks in the color of Blacks where at Saint John’s??? where there were only a few of the dark-skin persuasion at the Equal Opportunity High School Vacation, for summer to be working hard, at JOBS, oh Steve, this keyboard where I peck at clean-videos of Emily Willis into the shwoogies and behind the building age 21+ with a good idea of what’s paying bills, but nothing extreme, and NO TEENS!

I thirst for the returning love so sweetie sweet, all the way down to my sweaty feet, peeling off the wet single socks L-and-R marching down the Hall looking at Mrs. Wall I said hi to E. in the hall, walking up the stairs in the Lobby with all of me there, I was sober and didn’t fall, or to Trip on mushrooms with a Toad Stool by the swimming pool, cold to the touch, this Summer weather I hope there’s a bunch, eating a light lunch, I have some Olive Oil, just a hunch, Popeye exercising a bunch, but could you take a picture of me, for all to see, hung up at the Federated Church, oh, oh and oh, oh, here’s a whole Idaho potato to fill with cheese and sour cream, a bit of bacon bits so crunchy, they’re making me so thirsty squelched with a glass of Crank2O caffeinated water, brewed with coffee, when we will all be… hyper with the pop-sensation Miley Cyrus singing for the Nation, my USA so neat and sweet with missiles in space, I draw a picture of a playing card and it’s an Ace, with a car-stereo playing some deep bass through the woofer in the rear sitting in the trunk with start-up cables, with my writing I am turning the tables!

It’s my turn to be the “Master Craftsman” with a saw the scene at the criminal-seen escaping the cops on foot wearing boots like Santa Claws as the K9 runs on his or her paws, with “Pawn Stars” on tee-vee operating an operation of fixing the fix of the Insulin pin in my injured hip in 7 pieces! Oh but the pain, it needs no refrain as from evil opiates recreated in Ecstasy double-stacked in a 10-pack feeling the fix of the fucks following me here at “Averte” so leave me be as I pray P for prayer in the uppermost-layer with reclining in a tanning bed, try tanning lotion instead, SPF25 is anti-cancer with a Sagittarius sitting in the sit-spot with no pots and pans they’re all in France, like my money in a bank, Dan Besse I thank, investing my money wearing bulletproof vests on lovely ladies with big chests the mammaries, that pardon me-  It don’t bother my double double vision vision how I see!

Sweetie “shake” in the marijuana bag but with CBD I’m never “Baked” and with the shake, I take an anti-seizure med, to excuse my incredible “Cred” on the street where my whole apartment here is very, very neat,  like my laundry they succeed my seed in cleaning my CK black briefs to my relief, changing underwear every morning upon waking and I hope to go to “Tranquilities” go get on my “Fake-Bake” tanning with creamy lotions rubbed on my man-tits tight Pecktorals, the are my Potion — number 9 at the wishing well, so wish me well, Ferrari poster on my wall with the tall HGH Peter here who’s getting taller before my own eyes, but not me as they shrunk my legs, I grew 3” taller and without falling on the floor, this GHRP-6 sold online at many peptide-sellers it made my TBI Recovery much, much better, astounding my doctors mentally through-and-through all throughout my body and my brain that was badly injured in 2004, when I didn’t score — and Allyson never gave me oral I want with my toothbrush put in that vapid bitch’s tushy!  To scrape and swish with an enema in the ICU – a negroe wiped it all, to be seen, and heard, here, at my keyboard so lightly to put it, down, put it down and put the sweet girl with “Downs” in a gown!

Homegrown, I have no MMJ or any seeds, it’s the CBD pills from the store Kinney that I needs, to be met like live at the opera from the NY Mets playing with the balls touch the tip of the batter’s baseball bat to cousin Matt, don’t do shit to me, please, I live so pleasantly without evil thoughts… 3rd grade my Mom taught when she was an Elementary-type teacher in Spencer where she would correct papers at night, on the couch, all slouched, making pen marks in red ink on many papers that she would write “THIS PAPER WAS AWFUL! AND YOU ARE A GROUCH!”

And the Oscar goes to… =D

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