Somewhat tickled pink with one in the Sink- oh the Pink at Viccy’s logos bra’s and panties, keep the water handy, needing a Sip of the pink fruity drinks, but only one at the bar — not me! SOBER 2016! — driving so far, when I’m without my car, in Charlton, Mass- drop a glass, when evacuating my ass, bereft of Pep Squads penetration in the USA my great nation, of whites in power at all of the hours, of the day, I said the way, so stay with me as we set the clocks back, black’s cocks, junkie blacks, they’re so bad, so poor, because Bitcoin millions (of mine) I adore, going to the store, on the WRTA bus, Peter throwing up and causing a Fuss, to what end, we all bend down to tie our shoes, on the Shore, washing dishes, I love my beautiful bitches, off the cuff and that is enough, to tangle the Disco at Spanish I, when Mannie Rotella was my #1 “hun” in yesteryear of dancing in space, with God I found my place, to Dance in Space with Allah I respect Velocity, God knows the best of me, all dressed up for school and at Saint John’s Catholic school, Listening to Cardi B’s song “Lick” with Debbie my Mom, so skinny, not cumbersome, to lay with Great-Wayne, I am not insane, of Sanctity at the strip club, I don’t visit them, with Mother Hen and Naughty Nancy, a school-girl studying Economics, driving on the highway being free of Hicks and Sultry Stilletto’s the heels and before God I kneels, “Catch Feels” with CK briefs to prepare the banked buns of Bitcoin riches, no snitches, they’re not welcome for me to be at best, ignoring the hard dimes and the rest, with Yeast in the V-spot, smoking pot, Kettle Bells doing exercise, it’s for my skinny thighs of my high-rise Thoughts of ensnaring Mannie and her older sister named Danita, speaking on the phone and her liking a bone, to live at home, Man on the Throne- with or without as I eat soft Trout, from a River to be Enlivened Enlightened Lite Life I get the money and go, munching Rolls of bank-notes promised, my TD Bank with “Tiph” to thank, her with Hank and panicking pancakes to do it for you, Sweetie, and so-so Sweaty in bed with Betty and a supernatural high height of whey and weight and Might, my TaLL “height” and urinary length, showing my strength, of large arms and shrunken legs, those Panty-Hose and Party Hoez coming correct to show my sugar, while picking out a booger, Boogie Boo says “Hootie” for ahoy! A Hoe to show, her Booty in boots with Troops (on the ground) when fat fucks are bodily “Round” hooty-hoo with him and Jim and my Jism all over the spot, paint a paddle, sit in the saddle, with a Duck waddling with crusty footsteps, Bereft, with a long Beard, sans the beers, now since yesteryear when I couldn’t hear, my parents’ orders to cut back, and pick up the sloppy slack, but before I became so wealthy, my smoking Bugler tobacco in very-small amounts, somewhat unhealthy when I feel my lungs set tears in the foreskin of the uncircum SUPER-SIZE ME! At Mickey D’s and so heavy in the corpus callosum of Natalie Holloway this very Today now uncertain Creator, crater-faced teens hiding not to be seen, by the opposite sex, at Saint John’s the many boys measuring a Hexagram Hexadecimal point-oh-three with my CBD, forgoing the THC I don’t need, here, at “Averte” in Bradford, Vermont! 3 hours away from my real home with Mom and Dad!
