Whimsical junk junctions at the peak of the top, let alone values, I Val along the valley with Mrs. Ally of the USA getting involved with paying taxes on my 250 or 717 Bitcoins, or just 1 Bitcoin, so put more in, the no more ON off the whisp of the cuff in Chantily Lace, behold my face, clean of zips, and sprouting whiffs of Tiph’s Desrosiers pal around with that in-particular GIRL, my world, my Mama Earth to seek the ways of Elevation and defunct electricity in parks of the world, so let alone, along the swagger of Ripley wagging her tail a ways, all days, all nights for sweetie boo, Justine, I CHOOSE YOU! 2009 to 2013 with my #1 choice for not having to get a divorce, no Mom and Dad are together, and there’s no way to be better, than to be worth so much USD coins, as I fret the Porky’s (with Pookie) oh my loins, forgoing sirloin beef, with never any beer, I declare SOBER 2016 and ticking time when I’m so, so fine with not a sip of Mom’s Sutter Home wine, to stretch to the top of my tip-toe my MySlippers and MyPIllow, also not high, and I am a GUY! who’s awaiting the come of Times New Roman, the Romance of Roman pillars so tall, I want it all, I want to be loved and hugged tight, as per my love of living near or with my parents, meaning to me so much, I didn’t have lunch, that’s my Hutch, with a walker or crutches, my gold necklace, I clutch it, around my neck, playing with myself so manly, and I want “A Handy” from the female staff members here, where?  For I declare my allegiance to my future wife, this is my life, mostly free of strife and syringes that I don’t do Dope so Nope- as I frown upon the opiate users, like Dead David Perron, allowed his “fix” of the OxyContin — oh the trouble he’s in now, the worst person I’ve ever known, like Mr. Cro-  nin his sex-change and how BIZARRE he is, talking a whiz while inserting a dildo, what’s it all for though?  I seek the ways to dance in plays with The Players and the prayers and my breathing in the air, my care, to put you under no such days, I go a ways, but not “Away” to a Sutter Home I’d sneak one in 2013, from my Mom who is always The Queen, and under King Wayne, to make me a Prince pasta meal so delish to revive my Dell laptop with the unknown password, I give you my words, not to be upsurd with the sure enough promise I believe in God Himself The Father of His universe, as I speak in verse, with an A- in Poetry II at my WSU of college days, back aways, as I play with Prose on the time of the tip — my NOSE — not snoring at night, alone, with girls on film, I have such value with my 250 or 717 Bitcoin currencies, my enemies, I pity thee, but not my Marquis-Family oh the joy of being with Mom and Dad, that’s what I want being closer to them, my Mother Hen, I used to live in the Den, way back then, not sure of stairs, I mastered, because I CARE!