09/12/2013 - THANK YOU, PRAISEWORTHY BURGERS

Thank you, praiseworthy burger. The shit smells like the barbarian causes it proclaims and estimates to be. The pissing cries of a thousand Korean bullies reduces the numerical ordering with grimaces of gold and simultaneous stabbing motions. You’ll be killed with stomach-churning good news and then thrown out with all the other consequential claps in the night. As of now the teachers have left all the rooms and are planning a bloodied and beaten conception. I’m new here and deserve to weep with suppositions but you! You dare to besmirch this round of party games and get away with it! Not once! Not once for this travesty! It only takes three weeks for me to rule your red clouds and plough them into pink sweaty shirts.

            Please don’t be sorry for the father of another amicable, amiable stroke of invention, we have investments in place all over the successful portion of the world and quite frankly you have nothing new that we haven’t already ingested and digested and laughed ourselves silly over. The shit we get into, eh? The karaoke germinates and thrives in various sampled businesses with minimal success. Do not harm him whilst I’m groping the floor in Frisian Explanation. The height of the stares blanks all crazy merchants out of their own minimalist repetitions of matrimony. It is doubtless.

            They told me you were dead and didn’t deserve to live or suffer or even to wear a green shirt on weekdays. You’re scared of drying out homosexual trousers as if it might make you someone who believes themselves to be a tonic for such a thing. I’m scared of listening carefully to men with lady lips but I’ll manage. I have crocks and limpid pools for footsteps. Check the toes, check the toes at all times and try not to think of the underwear being turned around on the rooftops.

            Between, you and me, the provincial state is a red-laced contributor to global patterning. The gentlemen are always looking for you and they have thumbs in their pockets for laying plasters against rough surfaces. Actually I don’t have much to say on the matter, I have better things to do than claim aspects of life as retarded or plum gorgeous. I have a healthy respect for living incorrectly and teaching fuckers to not fall into their ugly stereotypes. Pigs and hogs with blank eyes as you might imagine, as you will inevitably preach.

           After the quiet leads the guided walk, the cowards bruise like darlings and forget all about the suicides of their negligent past. The bandages are never quite handy enough, never quite so fatuous. Disloyalty is such a waste of chuff and spunk, it gobbles it up and spits it out exactly an hour after reading socialist propaganda. You can find that all over the doughnut shop, held up with evil glue. You are wanted to get your hands dirty but someone who might be you only with more facial hair and less life on their back. He wore spectacles.