The entitled ones:

Snotty, stuck up, rude

Nasty, spoiled prudes

Your misery, their fun



Loosen up your buns, entitled ones

‘Cause I am in no mood

To harbor your attitude

And snooty snippy sayings sung



The desk between us that which divides

Does not right you to be snide

Entitled ones need not apply

Entitled are entitled nigh



The ones who earn entitlement

Are the ones who give respect

Possessors of this enlightenment

Such respect is what they’ll get



Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity

But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity

once there was a worm named timmy tiny tail
he had a very unusual, and very tiny tail
he had but one friend, sandy the snail
who had a very *****, and grimy tail
together they complained about how they had the gayest of tails
but they weren't as bad as the 29 polka dotted ***** whales
who were at the moment swimming around the pacific, eating tiny little krill
till wally the whale got in snappy the sharks grill
then snappy got snippy and tore wally's **** up
and finished it off with some tea from his favorite tea cup
and so the 28 polka dotted ***** whales wailed for their friend
as timmy and sandy ******* about not having a decent looking end

Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.

Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****.
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.

Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.

Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.

Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.

Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.

Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.

Like the percussive beat of a drum
Ba-dum-dum
“Dumb as a post,” she says.
“Doesn’t know when to take her shoes off,” she says.
Because what are you doing, tracking dirt in my house
Under my roof
Unlike your friend who knew
When it was time to behave himself?
“You filthy slob.”
And I think, “What about Bob?”
A ******’ ****** who was just so gosh-****
Lovable.
And even if you haven’t seen that movie
You would know
That it’s the ones who can’t stand still
And who stick their hands in flames
And who grind their brains
For answers
Who make the world go round.
And round and round
She spun her snippy little tongue
Without even a break for air.
But who needs air when you’ve got sand
Filling up your lungs
In the arid desert.
They call it Death Valley for a reason.
I’ve never been
But I heard in the summer months
The temperature maintains a balmy 120 degrees.

I’ve been absorbing the heat ever since I could
Make heads and tails of her
Ba-dum-dum.
So here we are at round two.
She says it’s preferable to be sitting in one place
Because the jabbering jaw is where all the exercise comes from.
And the winner will be declared when there is no more *******
Coming out of the other person’s mouth.
Well that’s *******.
I’m not sitting around waiting for you
To throw blades at my head
And expect me to just take it.
I also can’t fake it.
I need to get out of here, don’t you understand?
Your hand has abandoned the idea of holding mine
Long ago, I know.
It serves a more physical purpose now:
To make me regret
Standing up for myself.

Ba-dum-dum
She’s still going at it!
Not hard to believe,
Since she’s gotten half a life time of practice with it.
Ba-dum-dum
It’s gotten progressively less steady.
No longer the even pulse that I was able to
Drown out earlier.
Ba-dum-dum
There she goes putting emphasis
On things that don’t matter.
I’ll be heading towards the door now…
Ba-dum-dum
Let me just –
Ba-dum-dum
Can you move please?
Ba-dum-dum
I’ll take that as a “no.”
I sigh. Not yet at the point of resignation somehow.
Ba-dum-dum
MAKE IT STOP!
Ba-dum-dum
Ba-dum-dum-dummm

.if you had any, you'd also know, that the act of urinating, while standing up, is equivalent to a video of a woman ******* in the shower... although... in this scenario: water isn't coming in, it's coming out. ****! i hate being lectured by circumcised men that aren't rabbis!

i always wondered whether
   richard brautigan
was right about laughing
in bed, with one of his girlfriends,
giggling at the work
  of richard von krafft-ebing
when it came to the act
of a man, *******...
peculiar case: after that shot
of lead went into his head...
  not that i'm laughing...
perverse ****** acts...
   apparently...
      i should be inclined,
   as the passive recipient
      of the homosexual amour...
impotent masturbators...
hmm...
        as one deviant said
to the other:
               just give me the 2D
framework of a *******...
the other scenario?
  of a 3D woman...
  oh... you mean the type that...
might...
    "suddenly" become pregnant,
akin to the "******" mary?
funny story, that,
it's been going on for well
over 2000 years...
   i mean, the simple bias
for curiosity just, gripped me...
then i started thinking...
but was richard von krafft-ebing
circumcised?
was he exposed to a strobe-light
effect of flesh,
just... *****-nilly... parading?
did i ever think about *** like
that before i heard of whittle richie
prior to being "indocrinated"
to the freudian cluster- / mind-****?
it (or he, i.e. me)
   can get an *******
with a *******...
but with a woman, say,
    a nurse, or a, whatever...
he's got a limp ****
     for some time,
   before the arousal kicks in...
and hey presto! little jimmy
  has a birthday cake
and a hogmanay bonanza of:
metaphors, fireworks, metaphors,
fireworks!
- i'm that sometimes has
a melancholic "******"
when listening to templar chants...
like... i'm giving birth...
through my head,
   to a foetus, that's actually
a vacuum...
but it feels so good...
it's like: you weep for the pleasure,
and you know you're
enjoying the lament...
because, right at the end,
when you stop...
  you leave a sadistic signature
of a quivering giggle...
point being... over-exposure...
which began, in my life...
around aged 7...
started jerking-off aged 7...
after having found
a *****-mag. in the catacombs
of a church that was being
built...
     but it never became
a scented candle moment...
it never became a web-cam.
*****, live streaming,
earning money moment:
    which some girls frequent...
no...
  it was straight on
the ******* (throne of thrones),
done the no. 1,
done the no. 2 (sort of)
doing the no. 3
   (dilation) -
   ploop...
      done the no. 2:
useful, really useful,
    this, god the ****,
  son the phallus...
   and a holy ghost of *****...
next up: every time i *******
i begin to wonder:
that butterfly effect, "thing"...
you know... a butterfly *****
its wings in one place,
and a tornado happens
to take place in another...
so... basically only women
shooting blanks (****)
  get to enjoy the standard
deviant act of ***...
but...
     i'm starting to suspect
that... having a *******
is a bit like donning a habit...
what the monks wear...
now i'm guessing that
pearl jam (that grunge band)
released their album
vitology when reading,
if not the work,
  something akin
   to von krafft-ebing's
psychopathia sexualis...
i'm guessing:
naughty boy touched
his fiddly bit...
   yeah: as "naughty boy"
always does when he's
standing at the ******
aiming for that: 100% accuracy
of a welsh longbowman
in the 100 year war
against the french...
look... they even paint
bullseye in some urinals...
gotta aim: j-        -ust
   about right... squint the eyes...
but would circumcision
make men more...
degenerate, over time?
if there were no jewish
rubric involved:
  it's like a... "treat":
that "extra" skin can come off:
snippy snippy...
but you have to follow
these rules...
   what happens when
those rules are no imposed?
hey... i'm starting to stare
into blank, which i once called:
the feeding abyss
  thinking:
         sure, the added
impetus...
     to... search for the supposedly
"lost", "extra" weight
of the body...
  a soul "apparently" weighs
21grams... what's a *******?
i'm seriously going to start
calling it a habit...
          (NO EXTRA B FOR
INSINUATION OF: HABBIT,
was shouted over the megaphone).
homosexual feeling as an acquired
manifestation in both sexes...
p. 188 of the psychopathia sexualis...
love those words
mentioned - parathesia
  & hyperaesthesia...
or... sometime -esque of what
a man feels, within "god's gratitude"
of owning a habit...
you cut that **** off...
well... what are the chances
of aggression being, triplet?
****... the arabian girls were so
*****... they first had
to snip-off parts of their genitals,
and then made them
      put on a niqab...
             ***** as... well: ****!
all of them could be
the equivalent of a genghis
khan in terms of:
    in the *****,
of the Mecca Surrogacy club...
as i suspected:
surrogacy: the elevated form
of prostitution...
but at least now two
gay-lords (meet the parents
ref.) are *******
     and incubating...
me? as free and as brisk as
a ******* sparrow at this point...
i just want to see
how far relegated i will become
when more, and more
human freedoms are unearthed
and applied to: zee vill
               aus zee wolk.
   so that's all good;
    it's already one thing
to have anaesthetic type of ***
with prostitutes, once a year,
or perhaps two...
   it's another to be told:
you ******* because
you're having gender disphoria
or... you're the *****
in a homosexual relationship...
funny that...
   maybe the whole
  "erectile dysfunction"
is related to mingling in a society
of circumcised males...
who subsequently have
no religiosity,
  no moral authority
ascribed to them,
  as related to the orthodox hebrews?
you know...
i'm starting to think...
i could probably find
a common parlance
with an orthodox jew...
given: he's circumcised,
          and i'm not.
- because that's what
this: extra bit of "flab" is...
   you don't feel a need
to explore: "further" territory...
you're not strapped
to a ******* *****-machine
conjuring up new ways
to fill up that absence...
    the ******* van gogh /
st. peter's sentiment
of the ages...
       my bet... in the furore
of the events...
   jesus wasn't circumcised...
hey...
i gamble... but not on horses,
or dawgs (as...
   ***** ****** would
                          put it:
                  yeah... i like dogs).
so yeah...
not many jokes about
    circumcision, of males...
  and... not many uncircumcised
males... making jokes
about habit comparisons
and: the exponential rise
of ****** deviation
  of circumcised males...
being *******...
   that... the one ****** "deviance"
they could have been allowed,
of sitting down,
taking a ****,
taking a ****,
and bashing one to the grave
of: "imagining" genocide
was stripped from their,
should they ever encounter it,
state of rejection...
   **** me, shylock asked
for a pound of flesh...
   i'm asking for what's...
****... dunno...
  how much does ******* weigh?
yeah... 21 grams?
the same as the superstition
of the soul when it leaves
the body?
    cool...
                 that's not much...
- so my sole ****** deviation
is to do the nos. uno, dos, tres...
but ***** over there
was a web-cam,
scented candles...
    income...
    and... what appears to be...
something more than
  the missing *******...
            i look down:
oh... right...
              so i keep the *****...
for all their use...
  i'll be excluded from
the castrato choir of the vatican:
******-dooby-do;
i'll just ghost-**** my way
                 out of this scenario.
- so what wouldn't be
a problem with circumcised men...
their hindered libido...
their subsequent
                      rebellion against
their hindered libido...
no religious structure...
the woman no being in the mood...
and the subsequent
possibility of outlet
   of a simple: uno, duo, tres?
****... i guess i'll never know.

An open letter to chicks  like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!)
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society.......

I honestly don't understand
Your riches or your fame
The entire frenzy seems to me
Entirely insane

Your voice sounds ancient and dismal
And drones on with bitter feelings
Truth be told it's not at all
What one might call appealing

I'm not a devoted follower
Who thinks you're simply grand
I think you'd do much better
With a different career plan

Avoid recording studios
Or noisy concert halls
Stay home and count your money
And forget about applause

I know you would tell me
In your snippy classless way
To shut the **** up
And quietly go away

To which I will repeat
My title's earnest cry:
No more "Hello" Adele
It's time to say "Goodbye"

Every time I sit down with the intention of expunging thoughts from my jumbled up and cloudy mind
The wires get tangled
The letters mush together into pictograms that I can't decipher

My intentions and my feelings come out in a foreign way
I don't even understand what they're trying to say and
it's
so
maddening
to realize that I can't even communicate with myself

Am I declining into insanity?
Or am I just far more smitten with you than I even let myself believe?

Your presence wraps around me and nothing else matters.
When I feel you near, I am happy.
And it ****** me off.

Sometimes I want to rage
and grump
and pout
and there are so many things about you that make me want to just smile and say it's okay
even when it's a lie

So when I lash out and strike you
when I get snippy and short of tongue
I'm just trying to stay grounded in my ever overwhelming emotional state

I'm just trying to stay sane
Even though the overwhelming thought of you nearly bursts my membrane
You've turned my poems to **** and my heart to sludge
and
I love you.

the world can seem
from the glassy eye of a computer screen.

addicted to the ego trip of the
face
book

and

all of a sudden
the trip is no longer enough

ignored; neglected
the only response is a snippy
bit
of
sarcasm

a negative
disguised
as
a
neutral

your head
screams
'*******, *******'
but if you stood up
for
yourself

they'd say
'calm down,
it's just
a
*******

joke.'

The house is all the same color. Cream
in the hot chocolate with no caffeine to stay awake. Brown
is the color of busy hair rushing, seems like a mess on the bed. Red
is the christmas decorations covering all the fake trees and cold nasty snow. Blue
is my heart as stone cold and unfeeling with their terrible ugly glances and snippy comments. Cream
would be in the coffee i wish i had now.

I ask you kindly sir;
Take into consideration the marks
angry tears have left on my cheeks
Notice my blank stares and heavy eyes
Respond to the crack in my voice
and the shaking in my hands
Before you write me off as useless for good

I ask you kindly sir;
Before you mark my paper
with your snippy little pen
See the scars and bruises on my skin
and the pounding in my head
I beg of you;
Before you label me as lazy and arrogant,
know how it has felt to be me this past year

I don’t know who I am
Without him I am lost
No longer independent
No longer just a “me”

I make myself sick
For several reasons because of this
I can no longer make myself happy
No longer do I find joy.
On doing things on my own

But I can make others believe
I am carefree
Happy and secure
With the days I lead
On my own, without him close to me

On my mind, at every moment,
It’s always him, him, him,
All I want to do is be with him
He is what makes me happy
He is what brings me joy
He is the one I want to be with
I am in love

At least that’s what I tell myself,
But it’s more like
I’m possibly
… A tad bit…. obsessed,
Too attached?

It’s what it actually might be
…maybe

Like a baby to its mother
I must cut the umbilical cord
It can’t be healthy
This obsession
This attachment
This thing I call
….Love

But it’s easier said than done

I want to find myself
In this thing I call “we”
From now until forever
is what we say we’ll be
And I believe it, I really do
It’s just…
…I’m not happy with who I am
With whom I’ve become

I need to be happy and find joy
In things without him and on my own
Find my independence
While still being committed
Because I don’t won’t to lose “us”

you

Where did it go?
My independence I mean
There was a time when I could live
Without you constantly in mind

I could go days and months without seeing you and be completely fine
Now a second goes by in which you’re nowhere close to me and I find myself in tears and begging for your return    

With no end in sight
….although you say there is
Our long distance is eating me alive
Depriving me of joy, of happiness and “us”

I have come to a conclusion that to be happy
I need you…
not far away, but by my side
I love you with all my heart, my soul and every ounce of my mind  

So will you forgive me, every time I get mad, every time I get snippy and every time I sass. It is only because I haven’t seen you, or touched you, or kissed your lovely lips
It’s all I want and all I really need. It is what makes me happy, and you are what makes me, “me”

Christmas used to be fun
I'd run around happily
Now i'm just snippy
and short with my family
I get so angry
and i dont know why
but Christmas just makes me want to cry
My unemployed mom can put presents under the tree
but me with my two jobs can't afford to buy my family anything
Tis the season of suicidal thoughts
shame, guilt, feeling less blessed, more lost
I need to stay strong though i dont want to be here
I'll just ask for a hotel room to be alone next year

Jackie come sit with me
I have been waiting so long.
Come hold hands with me
Then I’ll know nothing is wrong.
I will try to do better this time.
Jackie please try not to be
Seethingly angry and snippy;
Completely ******* at me.

I know I should have thought
Before I laughed loud like I did.
Now I wish I had closed my mouth
And had gone someplace and hid.
But, can’t you see that sometimes
Not laughing is quite a hurdle?
Especially the way you look when
You wiggle into your old girdle.

I’ve told you many times before
I prefer your body without one.
But you insist on wearing the thing
And won’t quit until you are done.
So, that’s all fine and very good
If I am not in the room with you.
You insist on dressing in front of me
And you can’t claim you never knew.

Because I giggle and laugh at it
Every time because it is funny
And I can’t help myself, even though
I know your mood won’t be sunny.
Telling you I have never liked girdles
Or things like those awful ***** hose
Doesn’t seem to mean a thing to you
So, that’s just how it all goes.

Every time you put that thing on
And when I laugh you get mad.
And I am ashamed to admit it
But it’s the best time we ever had.
You wiggle and I giggle, and then
You finally get it on and glare at me.
It makes no sense that you insist
On forgetting our marital history.

Break ups aren't looking at the city's skyline and realizing a whole new world ahead of you
They're not being able to get out of bed because the sadness has consumed even your bones

They aren't eating ice cream while watching a chick flick with your friends
They're 7 pounds of weight disappearing in a week because all you want is the taste of their lips

They are not listening to a playlist of break-up songs and feeling better
They are not being able to hear anything but the sound of his voice when he gets out of your car for the last ******* time when he says "I'm sorry, thanks for the ride."

They are not quietly crying to yourself alone in your room
They're headaches from screaming hard your muscles ache

They are not about forgiving yourself
They're sleeping till one pm and going to bed at 3 am because you can't seem to stop thinking about all the things you should've said

They're not drowning yourself in ***** so you can forget
They're waking up in the middle of the night infuriated and screaming into your sheets "Why me?"

They are not having everyone support you
They are listening to the snippy girls in the hallway call you "pyscho" even though they have no idea you are holding back tears

They aren't being able to move on
They are watching you first love walk down the hallway looking at her they way he used to look at you and it feels like you just got shot but can't seem to die so you live with the pain

They are not looking at the world and still seeing light despite your darkness.
They are hours in your room thinking "if the person I care about the most isn't going to give a **** about me, then what is the point?"

Every time I look at her, I think back to that night on the stage
When we stood there for an hour with a kiss that felt like days.

I remember the nights in my car. Most especially one..
When she told me she felt something too. I didn't feel so dumb..

But it seems she feels more for him than she ever will for me.
My best friend. And now I feel like I'm running away.

I'm not sure I can accept my decision. The one to let her go.
I know we both agreed to. But somehow, I still just don't know..

It's not like it matters. I could never have her anyway.
She has too many issues to work out. And I can't just sit and wait.

I'm doing it again. Being snippy; turning into a ****.
And I really don't want to. I hate treating her like dirt.

But is it really so simple? Can I really just take my words back?
Should I tell him to get over it? Should I fight for something at last?

i try to work with a punctilious
attitude, and be conscientious  
but it's tedious bein fastidious
vs. mischievous and pretentious

condescending, persnickety
assiduously, picky people
who keep nitpicking, snippy, sickly while judgemental they're evil

jerks, sedulously deceitful
methodical when diabolical
it's ridiculous how meticulous
these hypocrites are symbolical

is ice, so suffice is a Popsicle
society for sobriety is invidious
i drown in tears while amphibious
are the oblivious, and supercilious

who **** me like the lascivious
but most are naturally perfidious
& birth of its insipid incipience
always was, humans are hideous

and maniacal like puritanical
was a mechanical part of biology
which is like psychology based on astrology, so even mycology

can't explain some guys fungi
and some try to think logically
but being **** about hypocrisy
in thought can be, like ******

to the psyche, a likely lobotomy
cuz conscience is mythological
cuz wealth perpetual, comes to the less ethical so impossible

is altruism, as cynicism feeds the vision of their egotism
til rights far from wrong like paganism is to catholicism  

that's why i live metaphysical
A mental visual state that invisible
where happiness is centrical
and by sacrifice isn't divisible

or only seen by our peripherals
cuz it's the only way comin to bliss
the only invention to fight tension for prevention of cuttin my wrists

Born in a South Dakotan town,
My mom loved her Midwestern roots.
But after moving out West she never
Again put on her warm winter boots.

One thing you didn't want to do
Was cross my mother; that wasn't wise.
Get in her way or treat her rudely,
And watch out! Her temper would rise.

Pity the poor salesclerk who got
Snippy with Mom if Mom asked a question.
The salesclerk would have been told where to go,
And not with a mild, friendly suggestion.

Don't get me wrong; Mom was also
Kind and thoughtful and easygoing.
But she hated to be interrupted
When cooking, crafting, knitting, or sewing.

You learned how to stay out of her way--
Little tricks for surviving.
I was afraid that one day she'd end up
In jail for road rage when she was driving.

If someone pushed her very last button,
A litany of colorful words might gush
From out of her mouth--words that could
Even make a sailor blush.

But Mom loved doing things for others.
In fact, that was her main concern.
For family, relatives, friends, and neighbors,
She always wanted to do a good turn.

Watching her kids and grandkids at Christmas
Open their gifts was her greatest pleasure.
Her thoughtfulness and generosity
Definitely exceeded all measure.

She could become obsessed about things.
When she got an idea in her head,
You knew she'd eventually make it happen,
No matter what the rest of us said.

She often had to convince my dad
That it was time for something new.
One day she found a house on a hill,
And so they moved to that house with a view.

Then she became obsessed with travel
And persuaded my dad to buy an RV.
I don't know how many they wound up
Buying and selling; I think at least three.

We often ask ourselves what would have happened
If she had gone to the ER that night.
We catch the flu; then we get well.
That's what always happens, right?

Not in Mom's case. As it turned out,
Her stubbornness was her undoing.
If we do not open our eyes,
We can't see storm clouds brewing.

I see aspects of Mom in me
In how I sometimes think and behave,
In how my neuroses express themselves,
In what I like, in what I crave.

In situations, I often wonder
What Mom would have said or done.
I might not do what comes to mind,
But thinking about it is always fun.

- by Bob B

I’m fine
is what you start to say
when you’re not, but
you’re sick of not
fine
And you
don’t want to be
             a
               downer
And you’re

sick

of having
to accept
advice
like
you just haven’t
thought
      to bother to try everything
yet.
       to
be
       fine.

And you’re sick

of explaining
every excruciating
detail
of your history
     and meds
     and procedures
     and life method

like you’re defending your
right
to make your own decisions

like you’re defending

that it’s not just

      ‘YOUR FAULT’

that you’re sick, it

    must be
       YOUR FAULT

Hey —

Have you tried:   ?

you must not have thought of that
yet.

I’m fine
  is because you need me to be
Because I am
       TOO SICK
ALL THE TIME

to deal with
     your hurt feelings

when you can’t

fix

me.

I’m fine <u>for you</u>

So I don’t hurt your feelings by
my feelings getting hurt when
I can’t just me honest that

   I.      AM.   NOT.   FINE.

without that being

        a crisis

for you.

Without you needing to come up
with a solution right then and
there to make me all better like

I don’t know how to
                                                                                         eat veggies
                                                                                               exercise
                                                                                [not **** myself]
                                                                                              try CBD
                                                                                             meditate
                                                                                 take time to cry
                                                                                                get rest
                                                                                  drink more tea
                                                                                [not **** myself]
                                                                                                 stretch
                                                                                 --hey, have you
                                                                                         tried CBD?
                                                                                it works for me.

And I –
    don’t want to be rude.
And I –
    hey, I’m here for
            you

So instead of being who I am
and owning my try, but

getting snippy when you’ve
beat me with your
good intentions
    and then
feeling guilty and attacked
and needing to take MORE time
to cry –
            I –
                      I’m fine.

it's kinda funny and kinda scary
but I almost always expect him to saunter down from his apartment in his ripped jean jacket and dusty accent and say something snippy that I could translate a million and one ways depending on how insecure I was feeling that day and make me want to melt and cry all at once, but he never does. he never does.

When a morning at the hairdressers
is a weight off your mind.

a purple robe below the ear lobes
and a white paper collar made me
look like an archbishop,
which is better than an archcriminal
although that's probably debatable.

I love black and I love pink
I’m bisexual and I love both genders
I’m either euphoric or depressed
I’m either impulsive or indecisive
I’m either to nice of to snippy
I talk way to fast or slow
My emotions come in extreams

A very deep-red-thick gooeyness of my hippy-yellow gall bile alters
this hairy, creep-dead-hick goofiness of my dippy-mellow fall smile
A fairy peep fed trick ghoulishness of a snippy pillow saw pile falt-
ers a merry heap bred lick brutishness of a whip plea hello doll trial