Spitting on the swishy-swishy fillings on the underneath graphite walkway with flamboyant fags cheering on dancer boys at Chippendale’s the boys wearing man-thongs while the DJ’s play sing-songs, eating chewy chocolate chip cookies, as the horse-race sneaky betters are paying the bookies, Dad fishes with hooks, not associating with any crooks, and in college he read every word of the books, Biology, Chemistry, Astrophysics, but to me they are partly mystery that with God’s universe I see, and I have seen the edge of space, accelerating through the Big Bang, but not in a “gangbang” — instead with a a few intrusive happenings with my most-recent covergirl lovergirl of yesteryear once bringing me to God, and like every single day of the year, I’m wide awake and looking for a pet kitten kitty-cat I’ll name “Cookies” — because I like cookies a lot! — and my cat during childhood was named, “Pookie”, poking and prodding her to eat her Fancy Feast meal and not being run-over by a car or truck’s front wheel on Hanover Street, the feline feeling its fate, God is who he or she will meet, with a #1 lover “mate” floating upwards from the hit-bottom of the street, treading walkers with headphones on burning calories not eating cheese, wearing fancy shoes, this after having a cup of Joe don’t you know?
Smarter faster bigger stronger, I train at the gym no longer and instead taking pricey “amino-acids” for anti-aging, not for kids, as a toddler squishes a spider and a midge, wiping his right hand on his side, so be on my side and see that I’m not planning on procreating a baby boy or girl, as 100% of my life is dedicated to my life, with maybe a beautiful fancy wife, filled with the moods of a spring chicken, for dinner, and we have a winner-winner with a large Weiner like Oscar De La HOYA — does anyone know what a Hoya Lift is ?????
The Hoya Lift in the rehab hospital each morning would lift me from my Fairlawn Hospital bed, I bet, to ease me into my wheelchair for a couple months that this has already been said, writing about my fiction, urban dereliction, as the kitty licks her Pedigree, wouldn’t you agree? I would love if the house here at “Averte” could adopt a grey kitten with plooms of puffy white hair, near her neck, but aww what the heck? Why did my dog Ripley die at a mediocre age, maybe she didn’t like her good-sized cage, Dad nicknamed her “House” that once or twice, to be so nice, she caught a mouse, Mom threw away to keep a clean and orderly house, free of mice, so nice, with the hornets nests sprayed by Dad with toxic flumes, sweety Mom sweeping dust on the floor with a broom, often, very soon, I want Ember in my bed to “Spoon” partially-anorexic like my lovers Jessica T. and Carina R. my “Travelogue” of the 8 East “vacation” I was always so happy with my three beautiful girls for 23 days of love, happiness, and pleasure this Jessica T. Put me at leisure, I’m quite sure, and you can quote me, but don’t quit reading this technical prose until THE END!