A Fat Announcement

to make

Some games are over, some games only begun.
rules making or burning, reading books, writing books and tossing luck in the air like Toscana’s Sunday church Gospel.
A deep wiser voice is creeping in, setting the tones to make millions — less friends, less beaches, consistent character, rubbish forging , poems collecting and my tongue speaks something for humanity’s thrist, I have been licking my own trials to extract the gold, 24 karat I am embarrassed not to share with the millions.
Organically, like cows shit spreads and make wild flowers bold and overgrown.
The horizon is here, I have been swimming against the currents of odds, and I tremble the river of doubt to harmoniously allow me in the filth, of where stories are being born and polished to serve the fucking cake licker.
Prices are going up, dear humans.
It’s the natural tendency of the high fruit, unrechable, brick by brick I recycled my chances to build this fortress.
Not a sweat of apology will be left unnoticed and then the rain of them claps, excuse me, spare the clapping bitching or knocking on doors since I am long gone running on clouds, forgetting them anchored emotions and dark darker darkest news, no one reads and my feed is generous with death humor to finally fuck and live.
suckcockdotcom.
Sign me up for the newsletter, automated answer for the hungry.
Come sit on my lap, grammar errors and timeout hugs, no worries, I tell you, speaking from experience, we burn these chocolate cakes on purpose.
Sit back and relax, let us freestyle something weird.
I told you it’s the best material…