Every draft, a second subtweet. There’s nothing wrong with being yourself; it’s so beautiful. It’s the best thing to be. It’s all that we really care to see, our time being dragged from us in all directions. Don’t even get me started on the crystal generation. I’ve had about enough of their sensitive bullshit. I want to crush them all into asphalt. Show them what the world means to me.
I just want everyone to be safe, Increasing followership. To say the least, I want us all to have what we need. Don’t think that I’m opposed to it. I know that you view me as this spoiled tyrant, but I’ve got a heart. It might seem like I’m neglecting you, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. I’m a busy guy. I’m not for everyone, but if you’re young, red headed, and looking for a double major in success, then you should really get to start thinking that I’m cool.
Let’s keep going, okay? those of us who are left. We don’t have enough seconds to spare stopping to collect our thoughts. Pay attention to the exterior, or you’ll lose your head, grim, Stark, son of a bitch. We are the ones who made all of this happen. It oozes from me like sweat in the night when I dare to dream. Sure, there’s a degree of mystery to the inspiration process, but you’ve got to let your soul take over. Live your life like a literal daydream. A kind of spider sleepwalking over the screen. You fully have the power to not waste our time. So be naked. Be horny. Be my enchilada! Just give me one taste, a chunk, my empanada panda. I’ve got you honestly on my mind. Don’t try too hard. It’s the one thing I’ll tell you. What’s the point, if you eradicate yourself in the process?
We’re all assigned certain cases. We’re all here for our own reasons. This is what I’ve been writing towards this whole time. The little thing that is rattling on my nerves as I’m holding her down by her chest and feet, saying this is the nighttime, and I am the monster that comes when you cry.
She woke me from my dream which starred her mom. We were together living in a large house shared by many roommates who constantly interrupted her giving me oral sex. Isn’t that just the way it works with wet dreams though? There’s a lot of back and forth, just like sex, while your body works to get its gunk splooged. I don’t want to believe anymore that it’s just my own inhibition. It’s like I can’t write anymore or right now. I don’t know what the deal is. I was out and away for a while, but sometimes landing on that right word feels impossible, and you look at yourself and ask why you’re even doing this in the first place.
Got to get the words from phase one to two to three to four to everywhere we go we’ve got something going on. The spot on her cheek or should I say the spots, driving me forward. The person who interrupted us was one of my highschool friends. We were on the Lacrosse team together. Many of my highschool friends and I were on the team. I don’t know how that happened. They must have always seen me for the spot on my forehead now that I think about it. Including the funniest kid I had ever met, the one whose family died in the boat crash on the lake. I think that his physically challenged sister survived, but I had met his mom and dad and other sister, and I’m sitting here now hoping that my daughter doesn’t come out challenged. The only thing wrong with her at this point is one boxed ear. The one on the right side. Something that the plastics department should have no problem fixing. We’ve got an appointment with a nose, throat, and ear specialist the day before I see my new doctor, the one i will call primary care physician, pulling my pants down and asking, is this genital warts, hpv to be modest or at least halfway decent. I can’t go to the doctor that I used to. The secretary or receptionist or whatever is one of my parents’ good friends, and she still goes to church with them.