Saturday, July 31, 2010

The Good News.

What a last few weeks months whatever.
I've had toys, chompers, gotten done and done stompers.
Back to the grind, in all ways, shapes and forms,
Invading the girls dorms through laptop storms.
Dear John,
Do not ever, come home.

Fucking, what a life.
Life is like a box of chocolates. If you get too hot you meltdown, into a weird marbled chocolate lump of rehardened cocoa and milk.

These cats creep around like they got the crown, forlorn when feens feign the reign,
At least make it legal to marry your cousins.

And that's the good news.

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