I don’t know what to call this post ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bring it back or break your back on the shattered spleen of what is wait to be seen

Faltering and falling on the slippin’ black ice of the Blacks not being nice, at all, with that great fall and Splattered

In the Fall season of the year when the homeless drink beer, mostly to stay warm, the Wu-Tang Bee’s are on a storm of a Swarm of Locusts in the Holo-gram Sam I am with green eggs and ham

Dingle the weenie hot-dogs on the grill OR IN THE SHOWER, AT AN EARLY HOUR, waking up with Folger’s in your cup, a Cod-piece, oh please, “Now on your knees!”

Said the uproarious Nice with her teeth LIKE FANGS, when a negroe hangs, by a branch of his celery and Ranch

I want to live near my real “Home” with Mom and Dad who are never sad at all, but wait for Fall, with Halloween that I hope they fix your spleen, I am “Nice” and not mean, albeit to anyone to play the drum dancing and prancing, and at a Rave, in the dark people of ghetto’s assaulting innocent police workers, I don’t have a fork so take Her’s or theirs as the bank of France is in the air,

Like my TD Banks in all of the New England states of the slates in my under-wear when I have plenty of NOT BOXERS, keeping my unit close to me, so needy for ample amplifiers when the Low-Flighting gives out an Ambience of the speeding Ambulance, with lights on and siren wailing, the man in the stretcher is ailing, from the Asbestos Mailing, that he received, now reddy for Reprieve,

When I was happy Obama was America’s first African-American President to shape the nation with racist Southerners hating, him, from where he’s been, originating roots in the Somali-

That I wonder what Italian boys and girls eat Salami, at the Solomon Pond Mall, once it get’s chilly, once again, in the Fall season of Trump’s reason to disseminate Treason at His “The Insurrection”

And inserting uncookie’d spaghetti in my penile organs organized FIVE AT A TIME, my fingers squeezing my private Paste the text of whatever I just coppied on a 3.9” Floppy!

Clamming about the Bounty, count 1-2-3 I do this all for the fans of your’s truly, the insane asylum is where I might be-  having fucked some girls in confinement, it was my ASSignment to be pricked with a pen and a Pickle, their booties I would tickle, with reporting my behavior to the Shrinks, in collared shirts-  I didn’t hurt the her’s of my flagrant fucking then V’s secret! SO DON’T TELL MY PARENTS AS THEY HAVE ALREADY HEARD ENOUGH ABOUT MY MANY ONCE GIRLFRIENDS!

We have many delights of Flashing Lights:


Him Having met with Obama

Oh Mama!

Let’s have me jotting notes with in some Texts from “MYSUPPLEMENTSTORE” and Twitter login codes…

Blacks “dealing” “Endo” and doe-see-doe

with Olde Wayne on a plane:

I like how my Dad has a dress shirt on with the pocket full: pen and planner and notes galore, my Dad, I’ll share him more because I love my Dad and Mom so much support from them, for my Traumatic Brain Injury!

Please visit my other writing websites of www.wrxtbi.com, www.alwayschillen.com, http://alwayschillen.blogspot.com, and https://allpoetry.com/alwayschillen

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