Where the last ***** died we're not quite sure but sailors reported one just off shore floating in a bathtub of brine the batteries died but it still works fine manual labour equal rights beating yourself up for delight selfish pleasures hidden treasures hand in hand in equal measure some have suggested a museum as their last resting place so everybody can see them where sailors don't give chase stuffed and mounted how ironic a virtual knickknackatory how we merged with the bionic each one telling its own story A.I. at its lowest function numbing pain through pleasures gain I heard the newer models had suction but all in all, it's just the same.
Someone decided to spam my inbox with ***** pictures when I confronted them about it they told me to go write a poem about it so here it is...