Sprig a twig in Spring of a Mattress cushioning my fruity feelings of being attached to a Loop, sipping French Onion soup, and nope- I don’t have any Dope, to Poke a friend on his or hear my rear-end of zero imperfections in all directions, as in The Director, The Diplomat, I want to buy a kitten who’s so fat, to thin it up, when I ask “Whassup?” Sing to the Dingle of a dango with my “Cardano” and Dogecoins to buy a Tesla, I want to FEEL YOU and your empathy for who but me, dancing in the universe and at Saint John’s High School “dances” the girls, their booties they shake, causing a quake with a squack at the end of the pack, I love to rap, my lyrics abroad, and Real Estate is a fraud, me with no house, fee-ing a mouse with imposter cheese, and unbelievably to the toilet of flushes, I love my bunches of Bitcoins and the wealth they supply, it’s all in my TD Bank- my parents keep my profits a secret, for the time being of me truly seeing the Summertime swimmers mingling in the deepthroat pool, this after school when I WENT TO A CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL totaling $100k for each day of Mom and Dad’s dollars, Ripley was on a collar, so caller number 1 you’ve won a great sum of concerts tickets, crunching the crickets, but not the game in France played for fun ’n’ profits I feel so great with a massive experience, an intrinsical preposterous through the straightest of lines, I forgive my Mom for drinking each night with her, Wine, when she is fine to endure a heavy buzz of a Binger and an Opera singer, Miss Peter, the S. what who knows best? A beautiful lover, Justine’s big chest!