Turn it up a notch on the hotel pole with a struck out crumpled crotch while wearing Michael Kors drinking a C-torn poors people to the April Sun of the one who is into me, and that Be: my readers at the baby-feeders breasts belonging to Mom’s of Course with a big set of knee-highs when I’ve been without that old MMJ for a few years, and a Hey-day of long hours and tip-top, tip-toe FLOWERS them rose petals in the shower of a classy BROAD with the set-scaled fish and scallions (but no Irish on the salad…) there, there Dearest Tella-Tubby’s chubby like Justin and Justine, although Justin has trimmed up (but sipping drinks at the bar he lives next-door to…) and Justine has put on some weight, that I’m WAITING FOR OUR NAKED REKINDLED, she Loves Dove Soap on her face and touching the feel of the soap to intimate skin in her V-spot when I bet she’s also smoking, or NOT, I hope, that pan in the sink-spotted on alas the lonely counter-top of strutted studder — ME THE, STUD: single — a dime in my pocket, not with a jingle AS I DON’T CARRY KEYS HERE AT “AVERTE” I want you to see me soon, Dogecoin to the Moon!, Aunt Donna with Bismark while I sing, “Hark! Hark! and me speaking, relating to you, be careful when you are a Parallel Park ed car that drove so far — all electric Tesla’s — I want one, ideally, and 4 really, before I think something intravenous travels in the bold stream when it’s all a Movado (BOLD) dream that no one else can see, or saw, CBD gummies chewed with my Jaws of Life used on my totaled 2004 Subaru WRX http://www.wrxtbi.com my car, that in it, I would drive near and far, usually Sober, the bounty… the booty… and the Sour-ie swishing of the sunset down goes the sun @ SUNDOWN, all the East Coast at like Cape Cod, with the motion of the ocean, coming and going — the Tide for the dish-detergent with a belligerent believer dish-washer at the local locality of the final finality of my living 35 minutes from my favorite dining spot, The Sole Proprietor (thesole.com) when I had 5 milligram tiny “cubes” I would pay for like I got a new 32 ounce of Swiss Navy “Tube” them flavored 5mg cubes from NETA- yeah I miss them on and under my tongue, portraying the Sum of some sentence stuck and in my mind, that I have no intrusions or infections of my “behind” the cabinet can tell what’s the smiley granola stick, chewie and 1” thick, unwrap the coil of aluminum foil dressing without messing up the fall and Season of down comments communicated within my 3 dot-com’s Yeah my “Internet Community” of Google: JMRQ Heavy Industries and my million dollars in Profits through my Dad, my “crypto-currencies” and my stocks, go ahead and mock me when this now you’re reading me at my finest Finessed with Fitness and LOW-CARB EATING when greeting Irene the chef, she says to me NOT JEFF BUT “JEFFREY” that’s who I like to be, one me only just me you see, and have you seen how my hip x-ray (7 pieces!) has my name listed at as “Jeffry” with the properly misslept misstep with a temper of yesterday missed, yeah I missed a day of entrinsical happiness Hobby-ness of pretending I was with Justine for that one all-nighter would happen with MMJ and a stiff-pipe and a lighter, not a baby-creator of next never having had a “Crater-Face” riff of facial imperfections known as ACNE and my screen MacBook Pro, lacks ersatz-fucking, for now, maybe next hour I’ll schween my John’s own protraction of him the derelict like a licker liking that druggie, but I’m not into drugs albeit some anti-psycho the clocks tick to the profantitties taunted, me talking, and typing like an broker of millions invested, the great Dan The Bestie for all to see him and his s-words type men who urgently squeeze, each morning, with an open window to feel the Breezie family’s Facebook Fab-Fad $TUBBIES I said don’t invest me in childrens-play waking up each day to MOM’S MAKING CHOCOLATE CHIP PAN-CAKES to bake in the wonders of wandered waste… with her making you drain a can of Toothpaste with none to waste, or to get wasted in the desert so wondrously pasted on a Desk-To-Top-SCREEN SHOT, where you will see the Holy fantasy of just chillen with Rev. Anne Skinner (not a sinner!) her the Author of many Christian Books, with her making no profits from readers, I can’t wait to be at The Hard Rock Cafe with a cement block in blocking my Put-on (Putin’s war) method of running, in the Sunshine Sunning and outdoorsy tomfoolery, the “Divine” they feel the vim of vibrant vivacity — but what was religion before Jesus Christ came ???
No one has given me a good answer…
And it’s why I consider myself “Islamic” but easy-peasy BEST OF ALL: TOTALLY “PEACEFUL” !!!!!
Bringing the cringing shrimp-side dish to a pretty and nice woman, of books, of course, TRISH! who I may have met once I dunno, but the farmers are farming and I don’t want a baby crawling (on all floors), of course, when I’ve heard the banter and I refuse to Re: NOT LOOKING TO FUCK, HER, here at “Averte” where I’m not enchanted by any but Elisa and Amber, alas, the swinging chandelier, it’s Lights of American “amber” liquid… SOBER 2016 down the sink I dripped it with no gripping at me to be BITING or GRIPING with Honest Ape re: EVOLUTION” to thank for my met “advanced chipmunks” unaware of the Fitness Ideals as per the what was once my own honorable thank-you to this the readers of mine, they are fine, we’re cool and if you had only known the dearest D’d REAR-NEST that there will never be protrusions of millions of minions cooking olives — I drink a mouthful of Olive Oil every day for the Omega-6 as “Es Como” ??? I was in “AN INDUCED REAL ‘COMA’” when I was away in the ICU and way away from my A-Hom-Ah my throne, my honorable “Home” with my great Mom and Dad, but with my time dwindling — yeah unfortunately I think there’s going to be a war tomorrow Sept. 11 — when I would eat at The One-Eleven (Chop House) with Shannon Nuttall who was fairly TALL and very skinny, eating protein bites, oh so “INNY-MINNY” reminded of Mannie Rotella I want her tiny body pressed up against me, as in MINE, eating ham “swine” (no wine!), my big tall body the neighbors had Bogie I dance The Doggy totally fine, hear no whine, with my precious white-skin the criminals, there darker with the paralleled parked Car, a Tesla, maybe in California where they face an energy-powered cacophony of precious A/C in the Summer Sun (Paul Oakenfold – Southern Sun) when they’re fleshy from the backsuede (swaying) “Bun” L-and-R on the posterior Sun Tances in these troubled-times (Russia, NoKo, Iran, China, India) when I hope to be doing JUST FINE, to the trinkets drinking TAPPED ROOTS as in ka-blam-O I’m not Insane. . . “Oh???”
Well freshly to and fro, dancing (In Space With Allah) and for what? To do it in that tightest hole, mingling with her mother, keeping it secret from the Step-Dad and his Special Spoken “Jake and Joey” — who? — Justine’s brothers, but know not Justin, my Brother, he’s a KEEPER!, he knows me, and so does Justine Aragona’s “Kimberly Doll” although I shouldn’t mention that fat dictator, short, obese, short for “Kimberly” and be a doll, put down your ICBM’s as you’re certainly prepared-enough but I WISH only to protect yourself, I’m swishy swathey swathing and I see a picture of my precious people on my front shelf, being upstairs, with me now knowing they don’t come in through the downstairs, but for giving me my Morning Medications, my “U.S. Nation”, my Home — 3 hours away in Charlton, Mass. — enjoying time spent on Banker’s “Baker Pond” out front, and my Dad fishing where I HOPE HE CATCHES A BASS FISH to maybe eat after being prepared for dinner—the freshest fish—fried bass-fish, those I miss, but maybe I’ll reel in one next summer, or in fact, I’m sure, if we’re still alive then with much superiority to you TOOLISH FOOLS TYPING INCOMPLETE LINGO no one wants to talk to me online, I type just fine, but no one wants to type like a mentally “Down’s” frown of writing while stumped and stumbling, thumbing… through my written words, I have a big vocabulary, thanks to all 12 years of school and College Time, that I love my readers, and hotel greeters, bouncy bubblicious bubble-butt Blonde happy hunny to get a little fun out of me, with a smile at hand, and where we both stand, her and I… when I give her the “Eye” and sigh at the sumptuous sign of a glassy-faced smile, all in a piglet-pile, with that smile, yeah, because ‘it’ I dig, if you catch a Marlin on an ocean rig… with the bait, a Jig…
I saw it with my own Double-Vision Double-Vision upon the creation post-inseminationing ring-ring RIGHT ARM STRONG (as Lance and his Hips and his Hispanic bicycle shorts…) when I have a response to the recluse habit to the right of the politicians to rub your hands for friction, when sittin’ out in the cold and waiting for the Cadillac to put pulling up to the curb to look as absurd, for sure, as a keeper typer typist who was a little pissed, when, and only when, I get that $25k Acura Integra Type-R yes, a 2002 yellow one of those, to make that much with poetry and prose, do you understand how practical the abilities (NO “ABILIFY” PILLS !!!!!) practically, and I come all-naturel SO PERFECTLY, writing whim-peers, my age and working jobs, for long… since Graduation and the instruction of how to be set to seat one’s-self behind a coinDESK.com (I owned for the night…) in a comfy Podiatrist-engineered Microsoft “Office” and to entice that could-be older, I’m not too choosy — Ember is a Mother and that turns my stomach, but she turns around, without making a sound, and me—totally fixated on her beautiful face, skinny body, in shape bee-hind of what a marvel of bumble-bee addled madness who it would occur, to me, to view her Monarchy so Feverishly… and Fertility — she’s a mom I don’t want to be with any mothers! — Frantic, now take to the attic to treat the treasured dust to cover the wonderlust wondrous wishes of possessions of time gone
And wait for a 1 day’s, Sept (Ember, I know how sweet and pleasant, but most of all BEAUTIFUL! IN GREAT SHAPE!) 11
Today North Korea called itself A Nuclear Power or something like that and I hope our United States of Ember’s “Endtroducing” by DJ Shadow — where was I oh right the USA and what’s planned for the Anniversary of Justine’s hot and wild and sexy—A GREAT MOTHER!!!!!—Linda but not Linda F. and not Senator Fenton, my 2006-2007 and beyond great Facebook acquaintance, and being that we’ve talked on the phone for twenty to thirty minutes at the probability I knew him until 2010 with the occasional phone-call the world of Facebook was so small—that, believe it or not, I was on Facebook TWO WEEKS EARLY !!!!!
Yeah I was on Facebook 2 weeks before anyone could register, and I thought it was like that for a while, but Tiffany D.’s friend suprised me when she said it didn’t need a “.edu email” Addy, that I was friends with Ally for a while, seeing her at a Red Sox game just by chance, that I was wearing dry pants upon running into Mrs. Drucker who had typed, said, also saying on the phone to me, “I’m seeing someone and I can’t talk to you anymore!” Decades ago happiness—but always with that WISH, MY WISH, MY WISH… which I voiced to her, “WHY WON’T YOU EVER GIVE HEAD?????” I gave her the ultimatum and sent her home, when she wouldn’t suck a rib-bone in my medicated bed in my real “Home” and my million or more U.S. Dollars kept in TD Bank, Dad to thank, as well as Danny B. his precious friendship, I want to see and feel and tell him how I KNEW THE FLEX-SEAL GUY IN 2005 ON FACEBOOK, yes, correct, I knew that heavy man… I suggested he create something that floats — he chose to make BOATS out of Flex-Seal that I see the commercials on CNN and Fox News (THE ONLY CHANNELS I’VE HAD ON FOR 2+ YEARS NOW!
I’m waiting so ever-so Patiently Waiting (Eminem and 50 Cent on YouTube !!! ) I said I’m “Patiently Waiting” for Wet Seal to open back up, that males aren’t welcome there- which I learned, accredited Credit Carbohydrates burned trotting Treadmill I live well — 1967 Ferrari 250 GTO on my apartment interior taped and broadcast video of a Skateboarding “Vert” Ramp — there’s a rapper named Lil Uzi Vert I hear on Hip-Hop-Nation the station on XM clarity, without Clarion speakers in my W-R-ECKS (Subaru WRX) I always wanted their primo expensive “Kappa” Speakers at 4.5” wide, the 1991 Toyota Corolla “The Stink-a-Rolla” — it had tiny speakers with too-loud Tweeters, along with absolutely without any BASS from the Speakers in the car, 40 minutes driving, at twice a day, morning and late-afternoon, I’d be home soon, with the Robotussin Max Formula-1 revving of enticed engines in my brain that was injured and you can read about on my www.wrxtbi.com =D