Hello, dear friends and family,
I write you on behalf of your own dis-functionality. Break away the molds of a less mortal man. Ne'er again will I be what I am. I am anachronistic I'm a flower. I expect sunshine I expect showers. I am lesser than an 8th grade child. Come with me Mr. Rogers, stay awhile.
Ulcers, explosions, colonoscopy, I'd like "things that come from the back side of me" for 500, Alex.
Reflex my mental perceptions and premarital sexuality. I'm Catholic, we're catholic; I think you're understanding me.
I used to write for you, but now I write for me. Pac Man ate my ***** yesterday, and a ghost I shall be.
Fan me the cool feels, fan me the sweet deals; I'd like to make money sometimes, but that's just the worldly me.
Let's be humerus, I'm flexing my skeletal muscles. Bone me twice, I'm flexible: tussle.
An antiperception of lesser mortal men, let us not take umbrage to the second tense of Portman's skin.
I see you, girl; I see you girl. I'm not interested, but that body speaks worlds.
Is that weird? I guess you can admire beauty without falling into lust. I suppose that's normal, save when staring at bust.
Let me anchor you; let me father. I'm not writing for my son, nor my daughter.
There's some serious necessities, there's some serious faults. I love you, and that's the honest truth, but what happens if we're lost? Five more words to go.