JoyDispleasureAdvertiser

Seeks Cowfish With 20 Inch Horn

I work as a book. Not so much as an adaptation.
I remember reading once about a beekeeper, he was starving for company.
In Portugal they have no bees. I don’t really mind.
Music is harder than a bee, more porous than a placemat, less well versed
in the art of seduction than you who would like to get to know me
and play me instead of your favorite song.
That’s the one that goes too long
and rhymes with the land
we stole from the dead.
This just got heavy.
I love SPORTS!

My left hand practices sports regularly.
My right hand likes to travel.
I wear a bit at night.
Not cuz I need it.

I’m really a goon, I belong to a squad, it keeps me in good shape
and looking frightening enough to have the sort of healthy and long life
they sing about at funerals.
I really like my job.

My best feature is the eye, the smile, the lean body and luscious
tower array that follows my money wherever it wants me.

They say it’s coming true, can it? They can’t be original munchkins, can they?
They say I'm elegant. There are too many of them to argue. Can you?

A mare who has many foals, someone has to clean up the happy messes.
When no one is there a tree falls on the small one. One plus one tree
equals history. I know you, I know who is and isn’t happy. It calls itself
home for the supper. It has the same name. It has nothing else, no one.

Your name has you.

Many lack this degree of comfort.

We attend mass together, especially those
who have good clothes and are content with the brunch.
I enjoy a good god and the freedom of other expressions
from early top forty R & B along with my occupation, freelance
affectioneer. A bloody demonstration in a square and the loss
of breath. A ghost is here and says these are all good comments.
Feel free to agree, the ghost is holding your future.

I get off work in an hour.