U make my skin crawl u make me so fucking tall. I wake I’m alive, I see everything I envision freedom. The back aches I get the shakes I send selfies to my fakes my friends. My life a forgotten rose of imperfection so deep that I cannot get even more cheap for prostitutes. That’s when I met turncoat the whore I wrote in September the 11th note. She was wide eyed she looked like she lied a billion times. Her whore prostitution another illusion which created men there suffering confusion. As the days go by I grow ever less shy. meth keeps me awake now I bow I cow I cannot believe turncoat that dirty sow she is forever a cleaning foul. Her blowjobs are like cream on top of turnips on a hopscotch. Her legs moves as she grooves oh turncoat how will u ever recover those boobs. U mop and u hope the prostitute is ever so lost to our returning replies of nope. The five dollars the cat calling holler. The difficult and the hard I pick up my shard and face it to her naked neck. As she becks she quacks and cries I hope she dies as the prostitutes cowardly lies and lays. I sing for my days for better or worse it cannot get more better than my college acting rehearse. I do it I slit her throat as I grope I feel her mole and mope, she cries and pleas make my peas in my panties. Turncoat is dead I cut off her head and dispose her in the trash just as I make her body into a lash. Her skin so soft I cut, her head so controllable I make her cut off head give me fellatio. Oh the sweet pleasure of cutting up my turncoat toy. The end.
CROWD CLAPS THANK YOU DUMP HOMELESS PEOPLE NOW PLEASE GIVE ME SOME SPACE SO I CAN DISPOSE OF THIS PROSTITUTE.
