Once I'm mulched you won't be so ******* me.
I see it's April, 700 years from now & church is in full swing. People are singing their praises for Jesus, due to return any moment now. The apocalypse is nighly {that means nearly} here, if prophesy holds firm. The end-times & the signs are undeniable. There shall be strife, rumor of war, blood on the moon, the mark of the beast, rapture. Jesus will reign over Earthly affairs a thousand years {any 21st century faith-shaking momentum has petered out.}
   Once I'm bunched no better than ****** on a ****-house floor
you won't push so ******* me. If I live to 50, heaven forfend,
twenty-five millionths times a hundred fifty-two scraps of a
pound avoirdupois you'll sigh a pitiable one, a nuance of
a touch reminiscent of primer wife.
   My ultra ****, ulterior & backwise, I love you more than Mexicans love pizza, blacks do whites, America & her justice. It's April, it's Brasil y Colombia, it's me & you: ultra ****, cuntier than average, unreadable, unwilling, unsavory. If I could, I'd sell you for salvage or forage, or at a bulk rate.
   My bulbous nays are more lovely since pregnancy took
over upping milk production. Now I'm less sinful than
grateful, ½ drunk w/power & remembrance, less testy,
less cunty, more rambunctious & flavor-ready.
   As I've imbibed an ant's worth of spirits, I **** widely, consuming life-needy oxygen. It's cardiac time and flop-overs are everyplace. It's telepathy gone ****-ways wrong. Washington used to **** constantly—he almost killed himself several times.
   I could find myself writhing @ the wiener factory, as the floor is well-oiled & my knees are smooth & youthless. It would turn my life into a hot-doggish holiday romp thru sausage land. I could become teachish & instruction-weary. People might as well flock my way as had sheep when Jesus was cracking sassy, agitating Romans, destroying the good will of money-changers. Let us camp upon the hillsides, far removed from **** & partake the lushness of scrubless jungle trim.
   As a man I have feminine needs no wiener-factory tour
can address. I've dated plenty with many a heartrending
scene. Come down, bedded with a woman of divergent
stock, I find myself waxing philosophic. I burn daylight
with niceties, I placate & ween fair blessing.
  One man in Italy can't stop the way things Italian are. He could beseech the embassy until his pizza burns for all the good that'd do.
   I've been hard-pressed before. I've conquered my fears,
made peace with feminine needs, broke down, married
women, begat a child, sold items cheaply from the front yard.
   I could make friends with cops, and give up firemen.
{Kiss my ****, I'm just out of the bath.}
   I swoon under candlelight, by the fireside, smacked around with brass knuckles, throttled w/i an inch of precious lifestyle. Caught unawares, smitten by professional drain, I baffle taunters. Ultra ****: querulous ****; wild whomp; mine-mount...
   As a man I've found myself wobbling on skates.
At times, hurried, later because of not acting now.
   Oh U.C. {ultra ****}, can't you hear me: probing, tunneling, examining w/o license, for no better reason? I'm wide-ruled, I'm college-ruled, I'm 70 sheets @ 10½  x 8, I'm your best friend {you're allowed one: best}. Let's go somewhere, let's stay put, let's stick to your story for a change. I like some things illegal but I don't make a big deal about it.
   A girlfriend likes a nip, as when her bra's forgotten. She
gains nothing but trinkets. She owes her life to good-living
& self-assuredness. You can't dredge her backwaters, it's
easier to tuck. After all, what does it all mean anyway?
   It's wrong to covet the neighbor's wife but equally, it's wrong for her to covet my hairy ***. A neighbor may know no shame. Her mammae displayed keenly, its valley, the roundness & summits. She may stoop to pick up car keys or dance to the mail box, the breeze catching her frilly skirt, rain dampening all that's decent.
   One man can condemn her, another be jailer. I love
thy neighbor as thyself. So far I've got nothing
against her, nay nothing on her either.

Jan. 2, I feared for my life.  Jan. 3, I feared for my life. Jan. 4, It was my day off and I feared for my life a little bit. ~ The Paris Sisters (with Mike Litoris) don't say: English isn't logical, threw/through, filled/field, caught/cot or Russia begins with an R. Trump has an R in his name. What's up with that? or How to make aquifer sound *****, by Kristina Magnesium, "She touched my aquifer" or When a cop shoots a deaf man 9 times for not obeying an order, it's a mistake. When I do it, it's a crime or Whiny introspection is the cop-norm among coppers. Stop whining, or else! Come, nibble on my niblet little piglet. It's a belaying pin below a giblet ~ Don't look to me to solve your whiny mental problems. I seek no part in your suicide. Hello whitey. Hello blacky. Hello brownie. Hello girl scout. No girl guide ever blurted a degraded bio-****** confession: "My ****** expression is degraded bio-sexually. Yes by Jesus plus bejesus, I grubbly & grubbily mate with highly-strung grubs in Belize City coffee grounds." ~ Will you sit with my turds? Who do I look like? Someone from **** Sitters? My *** is like ice cream from Mexico. Build that wall!

A lot of folks were saddened by George Carlin's sudden death as they would have liked it better if he had suffered in an agonizing vegetative state for a year or more before croaking. Or, in a revised formulation: A lot of folks were saddened by George Carlin's sudden death as they would have liked it better if he'd suffered in agony as a vegetable for a year or more before croaking. {Carlin, from his bully pulpit, called for the extended sufferings & deaths of many. I'm waxing profanely, of course, in the spirit of Carlin.}

Let me scratch your lard *** in peace, a piece of ***, girly hot ridge,
on the farm with lazy Keith, smart-aleck Danny & Shirley Partridge
who refuses to follow hygienical protocols including hand sanitizer
as your glad, toothless Kentuckian chews via a manned-clan incisor

I was so mystified by dumb tricks &, tired of your busy labels that I
farted a final, tired **** at the Christmas tree 'neath the kitchen table
with my girl whose able ****'s cuntier than the **** of Betty Grable
naked on my couch, legs parted, full lips pink & mental state stable