Vomit that's sick I can't stand your smell & the dead sea of privileged nothingness,
hey
halt what was things last moment, the breast that curdled goats milks
laugh milk mustache it floated off in a thought just hinting that i
meant i was sorry for all things i missed in this life,
and my
current life which is on a spiral decay into an aborted fetus, i know
you say I'm not pro-life but that means i can't type like a mad hellbent
fungi spoon licker, his son was caressed by my secretary she takes all
my calls and gives the best foot rubs, many many years ago since i have
been in this administration my wart spine has been deranged and left
it's circuits dry, the socket was Left to water down with saliva and
alcoholics, the wart spine was no longer part of the inverted lamb
speech, but a feast on holidays for tuckering people out made them doze
off causing slight delusions of parrot speech, doublethink, the tanks
had heels this high body's half below the ground filtering maybe ashes
and addictive ingredient's that melted poesy syndrome patients, they
played in the vast vagina of the house wife dangle baby's dangle I can't
hear you after that sequel, it was just sick to even imagine she wanted
to make more.
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