Three horses cured for food. The kind of birds we wanted - we were in the glade. Stop rubbing up against my leg when I am like that. This is the one dress of its kind, and it is mine. I like it when you wear that dress because it is grey, black, and red. We must be nimble when we walk over the layers of her eggs. She wears a dress that hikes up. I cannot be helped. My cap tinged with orange - rub my pistol against my cap. I took the time to rub my pistol against my orange tinged hat. Now, you may rub against me.

At the end of a marathon, half out of his car, my father waits for his girlfriend. They will spend the holiday in China. I rapidly sorted the money, the thousands of dollars, my father sent me. I find something common to us both: hair.

Between babyhood and Hollywood, she found me - made me for the third time. At her core is a single digit - the third one on her right hand. It is white on the end, not pink. My standards are tedious, yes, but they are not fair. I was well-heated and kneaded. By whom? The dress is off and on the manakin again. The manacled manakin in the one-of-a-kind dress. Now she is in Hollywood and must be embarrassed she ever dealt with me. A trump overarches. A tower. A hanged man upside-down. The King of Cups. Sticks in the ground. Sticks over it. She made my stomach an inked slab.

Dummed paper. Gummed paper. Dr. Forgot writes my prescription very slowly. This might make you dizzy, and you must be sure to never eat grapefruit with it. I mix my soap suds with syrup and eat it with my medication. Soap suds and syrup - karo syrup. I am liable to crack because of my dummed paper and her dress. She has that dress, but I bought an identical one at the store. It was 65$, but now I have it and it's like I'm on a date. She is repulsed by me. I expire, again. Again, I expire. The first time with cocaine. Who would have thought a chef's nife... The chef's nife easily went through the leather jacket. Then, I got Salt Lake on me. Curious paper, curious writing. A train rushes by with my arm on it.

A greasy hand across glass. The greasy black banana in the Mr Grinch song. The 39-and-a-half-foot pole. She will not touch me with a pole that long. Now in Hollywood. But I was with her at one point between babyhood and Hollywood. The president's niece. Pink hair clips greased. But then I would have had to take care of her.

My pamphlet describes other methods. I now refuse to lie with her greasy parts. These details were all previously invisible