i still write you love letters.
post office says they won't deliver them unless i take the bombs out. but if i took the bombs out, they wouldn't make any sense. they'd just be sheets of pronouns.
and i'm out of stamps.
prole is not a dude, yo.
if it doesn't ache, how do you know it's there?
i'm leaving teethmarks on your striptease.
a poem about prole's dog
gozer is a little hound
with fuzzy paws, and teeth
and you can pet his fuzzy coat
and feel the dog beneath
i let him on the bed with me
although sometimes he pees
but when he's good he snuggles up
and sleeps between my knees
he will not bite your little child
unless your child attacks
happily, he'll share his kisses
and fleas that he attracts
he's still a little puppy now
but will cease to be so tiny
but even when he's old and grey
he will always be mine-y.
thank you, no, i have not been drinking.
senor perdedor gave me some space for some pictures you could look at: http://goatcam.net/~prole/
!!thank you, mr. perdedor!!
mellow out or you will pay
i want you to know, the rays of a mullet are straight.
i don't care if they miss me, i never remember their names
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(they were out of milk, so i brought jug wine)