One as in two and three, those three, those dreams, yeah- them dreams of mine, of mine my own and not yours truly, but rekindled like a rolling saucer, a caucer and a camera with the photoshoot subject of a class college course of course all the light ‘em up and alive along, at Time two-thirty, in a doctor’s office bearing milky Breasteses but cancer-ridden, cancer riding on a windy winning of course, while wearing a Hoodie (I have never worn a hoodie…) with a kitty-cat pet at home to feed them “Friskies” with my French ancestry—why I kept Euro’s in France in 2013 or 2014—Dad spoke with a translator to remove me but I’m still with enough money—or not no enough money with a John Deere (I invested in, predicting the 2021 high point ) which I thought 2021 would be great for Stocks and common anomalies with my Marquis Family, they’re supporting me, from to and fro but smiling while not frowning, and although I chose to sell my Bitcoin at $64k, each, or $69,044, I’m not sure if I still have them until earlier tonight my Aunt Donna Donohue told me I have money and my Stocks (Tesla, Amazon, John Deere, Berkshire-Hathaway, Apple, Microsoft, etc. etc.)
And so I write with my fingertips who I am the one who licks his lips and with a shattered hip http://www.wrxtbi.com that I haven’t driven for years, mainly because that my dose of Haloperidol a shot of Haloperidol in my alternating glutes, or hip, I seek the wisdom of Ph. D.’s for “REHABILITATION XTC” my ANTI-SEIZURE MEDICINES keeping the tremors away from me and no longer given Estrogen that made me fatter in previous years, all because of a “revenge of my enemies who caused my awful injuries in 2004, so I don’t deal with them, this when I’ve ordered a $315 Mont Blanc pen—they won’t let me have!—I had my BoA reset to $0.01 recently and I need to get my Stocks and Bitcoins and Etherium, Cardano—I predicted the high worth of to 10-cents—I told Dan to sell it at his area-code and that’s what it was or he’s HODLing—Bitcoin Cash—I predicted, too, the high worth of $597 because my phone number is (596) and I’ve talked to so many people on Bitcoin Conferences since 2005
To widow a crypto-currencies trader, I leave no wife, no wife yet, me, bereft, of pain and pleasure-chemicals in my Traumatic Brain Injury, that’s me with a stubbed sunny SNOW here soon, the mama loon, and to pick up the spoon and ladel. Type a candel on a Camry LE. Or “LX” to lucksure-ious fit to, pumping sky-high gasoline prices—and me without a car, me without a care, breathing in the Polo Blue in the air, an Off-Lilter weight Lifter feeling the crux of the pump on a sea-side Carnival with a Fitness Bar of smoothies and shakes when shaking hands and saying, “Dad my dearest, next to Mum who needs some genuine “Care” from me- when you all see what the who done what around my Apartment here at “Averte” they give my pills quite being frankly, an obvious attempt to have me “sketcher/painter” on a stretcher that the 5 times I’ve been to mental-hospitals, I’ve jotted notes about my stay (38.4MB .doc) of once getting in word to Microsoft—while investing many thousands into it and Apple—I’ve had the higher-up’s at Microsoft twice, commanding programmers what to do, paid to, command my commands and comments to the tapping of key-pecks and “bereft” means “lacking, or without”
Colleges calling, while I’m whale-tailing it but tan and tained with Our Nation to tease of one, of thee, of yours truly, baby sweet-a-doo all sweating summer days of staying up late and eating a whole planted planet plane plate of what it ain’t—white rice—bitch you don’t even know what’s in the nicey-nice plans of my place where I stay albeit here, 3.5 hours away from my car and my Marquis Family, so very valuable to me—and Aunt Donna Donohue, you are by all means, “my sweetie boo” — sweaty from Curves… do you still go there and drink protein shakes with what but strawberries and a cheery smiley on top of the Mick’s?