Those are not my toes, but who’s are they? I don’t know!

Toes to Freely Fray a Fragment of what the most whimsical delight and my lack of frigging Fettuccini Alfredo past of previous meals with pesto pesky pasta—I try for low-carb after eating 7 small ice-cream cones last week—the weakened GNC “Scale” by the bathroom sink, boy oh boy I can imagine but what if I didn’t drink that Diet Mountain Dew and Coke Zero LACKING SUGAR-SWEAT… me the nix Nicotine gum trying to be a typing tyrant on what but this 5 AM rant with retrieved laundry—they do for me here at “Averte” in Bradford, VT about 4+ years without my Subaru Legacy that I owning in my own name—this distant seditious “Vaca” I shun the fat fucks here, obese and without a care of their Lard Laden thinking—HELLO? EATING SALAD IS POINTLESS WHEN YOU POUR ON 500 mL OF FATTY DRESSING—FATSO Erin—hello, Jello belly badass treatment of me—when I hope my shitty family doesn’t drain my TD Bank (at $1M+) with the fucks here to thank, them for driving me nutso not-so sprained nadules—of a sympathetic jelly syrup the burps of over-eaters porking Friendly’s ice cream chocolate sauc-y stradales with pinkly painted toenails for a Thomas Petty—his “Cure” and his “Care” to take one last Dance, of one last Breathe with me now, the “Therapy Groups” here are oh-so shitty, with the anonymous and non-collegiate instructors — they teach how to breathe — breathe in, and breathe out — what is this “Therapy” bullshit all about???

I have clout, as the most rightly Rich-ly rickey so to be told, fresh bread I don’t eat, no mold on around it though, to cozy up in bed, not until later- I’m a dark skinned hater and messaging Rev. Anne Skinner of Hannah House who has been so great. Greetings greatly kind to me, my one of so very fretfully few “Contacts” albeit- yeah I wear glasses for double double vision vision they switch my lenses where I assure you, I’m being abused here and enthused at the possibility of mowing grass greenery obscene, it be, when I am finally LET GO of my enemies’ and my shitty parents’ clutches when, not letting me have my car or a small, small shard of their $$,$$$,$$$ that I really hate my enemies, them who be, against me, yes- me the one who found God with that tight spot of a span being about 7 or 8 hours all night long, my Tantric Sexual precognition to light the ignored ignition of what spermicidally neutral submission or of NUCLEAR FISSION—I accelerated with Allah all night long, that boy, hoo wee, the Big Bang was intense, lights off, with me viewing my fantasy of fully IMAX type ‘o’ shit that was it, WITHOUT ANY MESS on the sheets, that night of tight pounding and, I, me, and my preoccupation with the authority to see the Glory of US TWO — Tini and Jeffry

I have the official “Aliases” of “Jeffry” and “Jeff M”… lol seriously, I began, my plan… like “Their Plan” which:

THEY NEARLY KILLED ME. THEY INJURED ME SO BADLY, AND SO, EVER SINCE 2004, I’VE BEEN PRAYING FOR THEM TO SUFFER SO INCREDIBLY ON FIRE, ON FIRE, MY ENEMIES ON FIRE!

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