I have lived in Bradford, Vermont for several years! SOBER 2016 without my car that I’ve driven with no fender-benders!

Averte” / Trivium Life Services

Jeffrey Marquis
2122 Lower Pln
Bradford, VT 05033

About the clout of me and my own, so sour at the late night our, hours, our’s, to bring on the sane refrain of me and my News “Fix” that CNN and Fox News, along with the U.S. Gov’t like the Civil War I implore the difference Holy divided, begging for some do-nothing “Jeffries” Divorces of Hi-Fonics speakers, spinning while Spiked, that MY LISTERINE TASTES FUNNY AND I THINK THEY SWITCHED IT TO, what but “Poison” of years long- my full-sobriety a mighty easy deed of my treatment of self-chosen, SOBER 2016 with no sips of alcohol in many years, my parents have fears- that I’ll overcome the drunks, my awful enemies of my tarnished G. family, distant and me not to see, them, who they caused my Traumatic Brain Injury and broken bones, I know I’m not safe here or at home, that “Jeffries” has taken victor many rounds, but less than 1 to the 8 of available mates, preferring Justine Aragona while I have a $BONE to the R for how but who but HER, yes a little female, with no males, like gay sex with a Jehovah’s Wit-ness years ago so pleased, and him taking me off NASDAQ: “FB” then now “META” I think it’s shitty I met her the once and lass, pretty little lass (but not B.S. taking a lasso loss with rotten teeth, her she would floss…) about a ladies’ big bums, or be them petite, I live on “Lower Pln” kind of street, that my million-dollars “Trust Fund” I don’t get, but I don’t fret—being paid in Litecoin and Bitcoin that I have so much money in—unless Daniel Michael Besse of CT, he sold it on me—what a shitty thing to do, on his part—that I said “It will reach $69,000+” which the money, is really so much, for a PB “Bunny” as my SUGAR sprinkled salt with the razors scraping skin, wherein, the shower- at a late or early hour, a poor girl from my past, her ass is so fat with wide hips- she only used her lips, up-top, merely once, saying to me, “THAT WAS GROSS AND I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!”

Now her married or whatever, and a marred bodily appearance, and MAYBE, I’m a “Parent” but it’s all kept slimy “secret” from me — A. had my abortions/babies—yeah with MY STOLEN SPERM, that I’m well endowed, think “Anaconda” but not a teensy-weensie little pubic “worm” like a nightcrawler sprawling with the hollow wallowing of her not even swallowing—spitting it out and calling it “GROSS”—I’d like to be with a Manager/Host – ESS — who moved a mile away from my home in Charlton, Mass. that in my limousine (seriously!) she breaded the bread (breasts) her BUNS her butt that I said, to her, L., a mother- I don’t want to be with any Moms ever except maybe a SET-UP (here at Averte) STEP-up kind of #2 mother I’ve been with 3 times in total, for the real deal, that anus didn’t remain sealed, so showering with her I stole, takeing in my spirited, spiritualized “Soul” in whole, wrong ho’ foo’ —and driving my Subaru I sneezed AH-CHOO the braised brisket to my casket—NO WAY!—I hope to be “vaporized” by a Rushing Projectile, protruded, how rude, to chew the cud, Rushing solidary diaries of Marching (in Mudd jeans, worn by long-ago Queens) with ample to-be-seen preening and prawns coming along- me nonviolent and I toil, clean soiled toilets swept by Sandy here at “Averte” cleaning my apartment-shit, these belongings of mine, homecoming soon

…and chocolate pudding with Putin’s 24k spoon, to lay in bed, instead, now I’m hopeful to be “spooning” the girl E. flirting lightly- coming soon-ing, and Sandy cleaning, what seeing her by the kitchen, her not making much money, I’m wishing, for the poor to be so poor—welface checked checks—none of the Food Stamps for “Dead Dave”—the junkie deceased and bereft of God—his Heroin was saught to take his pain and poorness, lesbian sister, Her Highness, what a discrace—to the feathered nether female “race” of a darkie bare of delight, lighting up Crack—the homeless, some of them, they might seek the drugs (not hugs) of the Homeless Hoodlum’s “Hood” like “the hood whole white milk—or maybe you prefer the “Silk”-alternative sold at the store, and I’m low on chocolate milk 1% that I need from Hannaford’s down the street, when, tonight I ate a lot of delicious meat, that I need to trim my toes (and belly) when the remnant nails, they stink and they’re SMELLY — albeit without Athlete’s Foot, I like the rappers I listened to with Dana Gardner and Tim Fennesey when…

Many years of those long rides tired of my popularity at SAINT JOHN’S CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL — my Class of 2000 and blessed by Priests and Ministers from the whole world… over!

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