Sing to the song of a Sirius radio on and live-long with “LIVESTRONG” and all along the way sipping cool Coolata’s and ignoring on-screen Ta-Ta’s of whoa now easy, Gator of swamp things chirping toads of what I so owe my Investments to the duo who made my millions of dollars, it so possible with preponderance, MY SELF-PRODICTED “PROFITS” with Dan and Dad, who… I wish and hope and pray to Jehovah — God probably doesn’t even “know ya” so be like a public hairstyle Skater with a raincloud sitting in the way of winter-time Snowboarding now foreign to-me who can’t see the lateral balance of wintry mix branches swinging in the snow-blessed whiteness of my hometown and don’t frown, Charlton, MA that I had my 3+ years at “Averte” never having appeared on my Public and Private “Ledger” when a sing-song tried to stride right go-go G-string that with me has never, ever been “a thing” wedged upon the hunny-buns of, alternatively, the #1 true love for me, my Justine Aragona-  not a moaning one, instead of the bed I please my temptation to view Oral Fixations of women with pride in taking the seminal seeds in the garden, her garden out front, not MMJ seeds and not smoking “a blunt” with Michelle Munt the TBI Survivor friend, of mine, with her in Great Britain when I made an overseas call to her, in-deed, and asking for “MY TBI ‘recovery’” advice when she was so nice so sweet, and with a hint of her accent that, my preoccupation with her last name actually pronounced as “Moont” with my many Dogecoins “To the Moon” thanks to Bruce Fenton for Senator of New Hampshire, I’m sure to meet him and greet him with my great “Aunt Donna Donohue” who- I seem to seek some nearly no nonsense with her and I fearing fire so that’s not any Inscensce or insecticide when I take much SJ pride in having a homosexual druggie teacher *ka-put* and I’ve been left out of the re-living insanity when his hard drugs… they got to me, then he abused me, him a user… him a NO PROTECTION having been used… to stifle his erection with once again, he had no right to insert his often-active “rod” into a deep dark place, when… when OUCH! and oh back then, when, I wasn’t even 21 years old YET and I wrestled free, from the crushed and under-him, my body he harnessed for a short-long time long-term mid-term on my English classes at not college, yet, but instead my dear Saint John’s High School, I felt his sticky saliva… his rampant DROOL which was all over my big and prized INTIMENT “TOOL” less than 1 year after I graduated from this corrupt Saint John’s High School, when then I chose to only drink at late-night “parties” with parents on vacation, to other destinations, who cares about the Haitian’s at Italian in dinner spots that I never, ever did “shots” when mens plots to peruse the undergarments of not Dana Gardner’s but the brasserie to be teared off, in Sean Berthiaume’s bedroom loft with parents gone on weekend nights, and me feeling I just might… get sick of the cramming for tests and get my tests wet to seek a treat from Dairy Queen ($400,000 stock) I talked to this Elon Musk when I knew I just might tell him about my SHATTERED LEFT HIP, with a quip, my English teacher having ball-gags but no whips, he instilled the stillchillen.com I owned for a year, and my great http://www.alwayschillen.com appeared, and with custom graphics, go smoke a J in the Attic with my swimming to a raft, on Baker Pond in Charlton, MA which is my REAL “HOME” with my Mom and Dad, after feeling so sad… them having organized a police DRINKING “INTERVENTION” with a giant scar that resulted, ruining my mid-section, and mid-recovery I used IGF-1 LR-three, which was practically free, aside from the South Korea shipping (JMRQ my “handle”) when I don’t have a candle to hand to the made-up Maid with a blue blouse, she cleans my dishes, salmon, for dinner—the fishes—all along the Atlantic of Scrod and Cod with an ocean-boat captain with a fishing rod, reeling them in the Marlin, for real, for real, with the sun-lighted sun-shades of bright holiday parades, with drummers drumming and the H3 Hummers gobbling gasoline of Iranian Oil—I drink the extra-virgin olives excretions, which lengthens the nonexistent “Delirium Tremens” playing a trombone at home with a Milk Bone treat for Ripley who I know “All Dogs go to Heaven” on VHS or Channel 2 — look at the puppy chew, an artificial “Biscuit” for Bismarck, Aunt Donna’s white pup, getting outside… enough when she’s reading her hardcover books, she put the purchases of these brand new hardcover books, the public library is off the hook, when she shops at B&N and her acting so Noble to Bumble with the lawn chair Bees, and the sun tanning her knees, needing the bread instead, now kneading some breathe in the pail of Grammy who Ailed aligned in perfection, her old-age contemplation, of often seeing kittens in her room—she was 97 an old age to survive, that Bee… be good and return to The Hive when I Just Jive So Fancy with my French Tom Clancy, she would read, these big fine books, this while my great Dad, Wayne Marquis has a fish HOOKED—but I’m not addicted to the benzodiazepine pills, with Shrills of the Skrillex CD I threw it away, the awful electronic music-  it was the month of MAYDAY and 404 when this get’s to long we’ll see a next Text in paddy wagon storage of Maybe “MAYPO” breakfast “Porridge” of plump buns in the oven, like a black witches wishy-washy swear upon it, the GUD SPELLAR at the orphanage Matildo fo’ sho’ in the African lingo of saying Grace at Easter, Laurie g. I would Greet her to gander to the WSU Track, me I’d meander-  Tim the Tool of a Sander, and Sandy here, never had a beer in a can, ask her she will “Clean” with the warts on my left knee needing not Nitric Oxide pills to press, and none are on my pectorals, my chest, I farts with Mr. Throwing Darts, that Dodge a Dogecoin to soil one’s shorts — ouch, once again — the Liquid Nitrogen to the side, I won’t subside to be subdued on a Subaru left knee to a Leg unclean I see, or the Subaru… my car at home, it’s a Legacy, of diamond studded bubbles and suds, slipping salt-water ocean kisses, like my Mrs. Donna, reading this it takes her much longer… to drive with her Turbo turned OFF ` ` ` owe her headway to driving SLOW ENOUGH when the rotated tires look so rough ’n’ stuff on aluminum rims, Tiph has her ways… of staying away from me, and awaiting to never ever seen me again, unlike at WSU we never took a cl-ass together with her not being my last Lass of Briana Sasso don’t you know, she was Mikey’s friend ` ` ` but I wanted to stick my proverbial Mont Blanc “PEN” in her ink at both ends . . . she goes, she knows, I’m too old for this bull- ess of not getting to parade upon the Esplanade in a Cadillac Escalade . . . that I’m hoping for a Paid Internship at Eli Lily ` ` ` with a Light-Days mousePAD in a pan to shake a waffle with your right hand, unless you’re left-handed and the Cessna has landed, upon a runway of Cover Models flaunting “Elise” here at Averte-  her very pretty and now might much taken off heavy whey TS in 5 pound jugs, jubilation of the Islamic Nation, when she fawned upon her her her hearing me talk about Justine in-the-butt my favorite spot, splotch, and digging deeper-  Tiph called me “A Creeper” and so did Miss Rivera — Misses Aragona she hates her, being my long-ago friend typing to her, all night unit of mine until LATE FOR THE YONDER “DATE” with that time of the month, and like a moth to a flame, it’s never the same, the Snickering Sanity of me ` ` ` that don’t you see, @tiphdizzle what happened, do you not approve of my FAPPING ??? Because I’m clapping my keys with the doors here INSECURE when anyone can get in — Dan has my PINK number all Summer with stitched Levi’s the needle in the thighs, of a Femur, 

Justine Aragona please, y’all, I ask you, can I see her ???

Sometime soon and KISSES FROM THE MOON that I love most of you who read me probably many hundreds, clothes your Hatchback Bumpkins from “Dunkins” designed donuts to GO NOT NUTS! I’m plenty “sane” to Invest many thousands US dollars, Melissa always said, “Holla!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdtxoTjqNf0