My stifled need to get her on her needs, when womanly-monthly distaste requires alternate measures a way to galore methods of the icky menses… Justine, look at what you did to my bed! and she chuckled, it made me love her way more!!! =)

What’s more, to run more of a “system” being a common store, or what’s more suffice as a NYC boulevard whore?  Really I mean come on, my girl who she is poor and shaking the earthquakes equal-opportunity hard-core, like a damsel kind of drug, when she gives me hugs ’n’ kisses, that, I wonder, will she be the Misses? who I soared and “scored” now hand me a big wad of tissues, having explored the inner-horizons of Play-Boy issues, swearing I mostly read the Articles—of their lingerie, of clothing, me making the most-in this moist state of sweatshirts when they shrunk my trunks! I’m sleeping upper top-side in a bulletin bunk kinda bed when I don’t eat bread or pasta or most-any carbohydrate—LOW-CARB to lose weight, shedding off the pounds of only a few “L-B’s” to FEED THE NEED and to feed the needy—

Madame made them, last name “Rite-ella” in my flip-flops, and the lips with Beyonce’s hips—good Lordy the absurdity of pointing “nips” to go along with tits, that ribbit-ribbit ramble, the whole ensemble taking a Tardy with a “special person” eating lego’s they won’t let go, I know and this, retards kiss and my ass, while not partaking in $CAKE or bratty sass—more like “Step-Sister” or “Step-Mother” no offense but I have to say, “My readers are NUTS!”

And some say “niggers” are quicker in the foot—RACE—that swallow my words at your own “Pace Picante” some dip, and I say hi to Rip and Grammy, in Heaven, that the heathens of quilled pens accelerate through The Bends that the peaceful hens chirp and chirk and EARTH TO CHUCK! love me right you so, to shower me with gifts, every 2 or 3 days—showering skin and smelling the sugary salts so sweet, probably 3 showers a week—being left dry as a Baker {pond} when the fishing for bass something something ASS ohhhhh hahaha now I’m thirsting for Africa’s albatross in the Haitian nation of scum and piss and trash, emptying your Desktop Bin the space freed externally, exacerbating the alleviation of within the MOTHER BOARD (mommyblowsbest “step-mom”) accreditation of fantasies forlorn—I’m doing mighty, mighty fine with no broads—but merely the pic’s of stillshot HUSTLER’s memories at “Dave and Buster’s” a saloon or salon, as the writing goes on… GOOD GOD, DEAR GOD, what’s with the defamation of these Teens (I don’t watch “Teens” online at night because I couldn’t care to bear the sight of a small girl so T-I-T-E) but me hoping for a real gig- with this girl, Mannie? Take my jib! Take my job! Hob my knob, known to be discrete, having talked to your whole family, like your Dad the nice guy on the phone!

The dark nicey-night’s coming at right of the slight—1 hour different Daylight with a Glo-Worm for Ember, I meant to make her day!—and I delivered her a shiver of the package—but I’ve been so shitty to Ally—not mentioning her name often as our 1 year relationSHIP—it sunk, she was bunk, and I only got BJ’s from her 2 times only, that frigid B didn’t deliver and I seeked new partnership with younger girls only, or maybe older—unavailable Ari—so sorry I went clubbing undevoted to her, nope- because I knew her mother so well—The Boss, my Boss at GNC ***I WAS THE ASSISTANT MANAGER*** happy and knowledgeable but then taken away from the daily life of me living at home, a very far distance from me having a wife—that would have been the life to live, my itty-bitty bits of love to give and grope—nigga swinging ON A BENCH!

Nick! I feel great about where Mannie will bring you… or did you get a divorce?

I call her mine! I get DIBS!

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