weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

i'm starting to get them...
         no, wait: i've lost the plot...
it's almost like...
alcoholics anonymous...
booo! booo!
  yep, *gatlin knows
about as much,
            and bolt was
the voodoo doll
   of the jamaican sprint
team...
     whatever they make
him out to be: voodoo doll,
genuine, to me.
but i listen to these
youtube reformists,
they "alcoholics" anonymous
and i'm starting to
pledge myself into pitying
them...
   they really didn't make
much of their own company
when drinking? did they?
me?
    of course i cry!
    you play me the most emotionally
charged piece of classical
music and i'm a wendy spencer
(whoever the **** that is)
   using up about ten tissues
to mind the niagara falls of
sentiment...
                what's with so much
confessing, and the complete
lack of enjoying the trip?
   am i going to repent for me
drinking?
               **** no!
         if you can't keep up,
then there's no point in
keeping you motivated...
  if you can't bask in a sunset
of a litre of *** with me,
        what sort of pirate r'ye?
go on, ******, frown,
frown *******, frown!
beat me with you ugly stick...
hope you get the ian dury polio
counter-effect...
      while walking down
cuntish town you thought you'd
call to safe ground via kentish...
kent's impromptu:
   essex can have the veg 'n' blush
  fruits,
we're 'eeping the flou-wares.;
hmm... a(n) english garden,
after all.
       whaa whaa... tongue tied
in the grapheme shared between two
words, hence the bracket "optional" (n);
aye! yo!
           big up kingston-upon-thames!
charcoal those jamaican
   colours, and make sure
i get i ****-churn at notting hil
filling station of jerking inflatables
of juggling hips and pelvises
            of the caribbean woo, woo-manz;
suddenly my **** turns
into a crisp dipper with a salsa
of fat *** and chocolate drip
               of ***** mush...
   nice thought, i suggest you try
it sometime;
boy, you ain't 'ave ah 12" dipper?
   don't bother...
   look for the girls with the boney a,
i mean via m... take them to the mass
with the altar being:
    and rodeo it was...
   i never knew i had bones inside
the bush of my *****...
                    evidently? i have!
gold goes to vanilla manila,
silver? goes to strawberry blush...
bronze? ah...
    you ever wonder why oiled or
wet chockies look so fascinating
bouncing off moonlight?
   me too...
          kenyan brown is beyond
what the western niger showcases.
if they just dropped the madonna *******,
       i'd still **** them drunk...
when she's naked
     and you're naked,
                          and you're drunk:
              it's no time to be a *****-loner;
tea-cups and napkins,
  invoking a respectable "repertoire"
can belong to the white girls,
   along with the ***** collection of
abbreviated lies...
             i got bored,
started to loosen up a bit,
    i have no motto,
        i have absolutely no ethical concern...
what comes along is better than
paying for enforcing an encounter via
the liberty of paying for it...
   trouble is... when you pay,
and she *******...
           that's a real ******* problem for her...
she wasn't supposed to enjoy it,
she was supposed to get paid...
              ha! transcending the "ethics"
of prostitution is not an easy feat;l
more painful for her, than for me,
    with that octopus-like squeeze of imitating
a circumcised ***** having pulled
the ******* back...
    **** me... i never thought i'd own
an aubergine... thank **** that also
means: minus the c-ring: two birds, one stone.