Me at a Dexter’s of Doc Martens the shoes, both of them so cutie cutesy one-neither, the shoes are loose and I don’t drink juice (too sugary…) or any “Goose” of tyrant imbibation on the Nation of all-natty “drunk pickled peeps” the lazy pupils examined, and the word is out: this man drank draught (pronounced “draft” in old literature) when swoopened up by the men who are pumped—I’m talking about front-line soldiers within ear-shot of not using pans instead of Pot—like my replacement: tiny bits of tobacco—but from so long ago, along the way with what I thought of earlier- say it an Anthem on a Mid-Term having gotten a “0%”—the wise me—although still recovering—I wanted a B or B+ and I got what I came more for in the classroom setting Mrs. Waskevich I’ll never forget her or her sass, a brass bracelet not having, had one, these Rubber Bracelets are always worn… like a Taxi on the Horn, for a mate para-graph it’s Aft… racing aircraft at Aviation Shows—these pilots, they know—as to how to how about Langlois landing a SpaceX shuttle, 4 shure, fo’ sho’ as JW has sucked me in and I want to go to the next “Mass” called “A Meeting” but my Zoom is disabled on this corrupt laptop, my third, that you have my word, the other 2 laptops of mine are with unknown master passwords by me, that this is I see, it’s so currently corrupt *hiccup* to the tippity-top when others intramingle while I’m so pleasantly—just time passing all the way—and each day—sleeping late until usually about 3pm or 4pm as the best Bed, a Queen, remaining dry in dreams, not a naked lady seen in many years—so apparently I’m being honest and direct, out of much respect for the “Team” here at “Averte” I’m stranded and the projectiles will’ve landed, Apple Jack, the teacher’s pet to deal and get to know so much more, I implore, really- it’s a good idea with out going to no man’s land—the Empire of the Romans—to the core, when a home-run of Peterson’s yeah that’s the way it takes to make the people in the Stands, well, umm, to make them “STAND THIS BIT OF TEXT” with style and now I’m paid in pea-chips be the wreathe of an XMAS doorway—yeah, more is on-the way of Transit—skip an exit—driving North or South to either NYC or Florida that would be “I-95”
` ` ` Flo’ Rider air-trans, that I’m not “TRANS” or tyrannical—that would be hilarious—I sit on my Chorus-size love-seat Couch when swiping my Debit Card a-Stray and me hoping for a kitten to name Cookies- that would be the day, when a Stray cat comes around, they will Take the Kitten In !!!!!
