To Tickle a lame Lime Rickey, Linda would suggest for me to drink the SOBER liquids, I neglected her pleas, to “Please bring me a Guinness” of bubbled foam at the top, drinking it down- that made my parents sadly frown, with memories of being there with me, drunk for them to see… yeah me, and my Mom in her Wedding Gown, now available near Gore “draw-down” Pond, in Charlton, Mass, that Justine and Linda, they were so great, being completely STRAIGHT—unlike Lisa the DINE—which is fine whither her Tranny “Hubby”—lavish life I lead, unleaded, overly away and $$,$$$,$$$ BREAD-ED with the dollar signs of mine, me my own Wall St. “Throne” within this “Text of my home-grown proverbial Flavor” Allah is the Savior, and Jehovah, but I focus on God—yes, and believe it or not—I reached through God Himself The Father The Creator at the edge of space one Blessed night in 2013—and undressed in bed, her face-down, all night long 9 hours long, and drowning out the unpleasant odor—it was her bookie-door I played “hookie” instead of being in her nookie, her fine Cookie I would dip the chips of chocolate, that night with us completely alone, me and my boner, and then putting money into $BONE with $BITCOIN, that one time Justine bit me fairly hard, her I PROD-ed, that instead of calling her by her fine first-name (similar’s to my Brother’s origin!) Justine my Queen, I uttered a “Tip” (dazzling mucho money of mine) and Justine bit my dick (!!!), hard enough to require a doctor’s examination, then hearing “you should keep your hands off of it!” and but this years after, the latter, of when I was evil-ly prescribed “Estrogen”—that fuck my enemies, trying to mark a booby or two our out of my uppoor-body “Pec’s” on my Chesty months of them receding after my PLEADING: “Dr. Benny, NO MORE ESTROGEN PILLS PLEASE!”—I was on my knees, begging him to reduce my nipple-tissue, and HUSTLER magazine—I’ve never seen an “issue”—I have with that publication, once and now, so controversial in my U.S. Nation—that I haven’t made a singing Single—I’ve been single since the 5th time in a mental hospital with Alx Neas—her taking me in, her big biting teeth that felt like PINS so sharp, and poking, my sensitive areola spots up top—that we had EACHOTHER!
I wonder how my Cousin David killed himself when he was locked up and without his favorited “opiate” droogz, he preferred to fake out, and with two toddlers—he faltered, and at fault for his own getting high with H-injections, he preferred OxyContin to natural erections, that my contemplations at his funeral—opiates made him Constipated… but no where in the Bill of Rights says you can be a deadbeat father, his family was off-kilter and his Charity couldn’t nearly fill the “Quota” to quote the dead father, “I haven’t had a sip to drink and I’m fine!” BUT THEN HE FELL DOWN ONCE OR TWICE (!!!) AND HE PROCEEDED TO DRINK 4 BEERS HE HAD NO MONEY! So how sorry to his honey and uncombed hair, his shrunken pupils viewing me, stared, and “starry-eyes” I signed without a bit of a care—HOWEVER, I CALLED THE COPS BEFORE HE DROVE, us moving in that crappy vehicle he had, then asking me for money, for gas… that I assured Dan he’d kill himself, and Dan was too far away to prevent David P.’s suicide, I warned him that night in 2013 or 2014, and visiting his “wake” I prayed he’d never make it, you know, there… because I didn’t care…
Call it a sin to wish hell upon a man of filthy lineage, he was a man, he was my kin, and I don’t care if it’s a sin, to say, “David P. is the worst person I’ve ever known!” that my Dad did too, and he told me, “David P. would be a quote-unquote “LIABILITY” !!!!!
He died and his sister became a lesbian, after she had babies, with Mr. Cronin—her husband—he’s going to become a woman now and oh and how??? The surgery isn’t free, and I prayed that David P. would never be in his death years ago, suggesting he’s suffering??? Yeah I’m sure he is, and this I know! SO SAY NO TO OPIATES AND ALCOHOL AND CIGARETTES AND MARIJUANA!
I do fine being bereft of any intoxication, PRAISE THE NATION ((( and of Islam, I love this song, this great, great singing, I’m winning with my WRITING and choosing not to fight despite…) yeah I’m never fighting, and all with me including this: my enemies and the drunks and the druggies and the alcoholics and the cigarette smokers, go buy drawn and crafted, Demon-Insignia Cigarette Lighters, which I don’t buy or have I ever bought anything evil, I use Bic because I Bic my shaven scrotum, my pole? A TOTEM
Google: “Bruce Fenton Polls” because the man I’ve spoken with for over a dozen hours on the phone is running for SENATOR of New Hampshire, and he appeared today on a video, in the town of “Freedom, NH” =)
I’m not yet quite or QUIET, as her gagging! I’m a fair share skinnier than most individuals in society, I am the gargantuan… but not quite as thick as Peter North and his northern POLE!
