I vow not to lose my mind because my underpants have been stolen by gold-star dykers exposing for me to see purplish ******* swollen midway between noses & bellies yet far above each impacted colon in the casket of what putridly remains of Satanic slave Lloyd Nolan who died not wrecked into a tree by a Julia-type as had Marc Bolan after knocking up driver Gloria Jones, with whom he sunk a goal in he croaked one last croak as fast as Henny Youngman told a joke in betwixt Ed's toady laugh & the intro of Johnny's ******-guest token never had there been mo' jive **** shat, visually projected & spoken & articulated with mucho abandon disregard for busted toys broken floorward, sonically disruptive enough to awake cadavers unwoken & so loud as to shake the deadliest of unawakened corpses awoken, conscious & alert like ****-******* New Jerseyites from Hoboken who fled Hispaniola island in strung-together rafts of pine & oaken that groaned like ****** plagiarist Jerzy Kosiński during his croakin'