Anything that was ever worth writing was worth writing at this point in the day. How going on here? You may ask. Where the fuck are you? I should ask. What's going on. John Turturro! Or something like that. I make you laugh or you say. I say the boy has bad teeth and you laugh until tomorrow with fake prosthetics and unbelievable promises. These people take care of things around here.
Itis your love laughing, rich boy. I create a spark that your notes know not how to comprehend. Walk your ass to the head of the class if you can. I've been talking Joyce for too long. I'd like to see you suffer and squirm, I like the way it sounds, squirm, like a non-syballance. Like you know.
My words come down on your sweet ass. Like your secret service. You make your way. Don't fear it's nothing that mama or daddy can't make up for at this point.
I understood a long time ago that you were to be despised. You came too close and I will strike and you will call for mother and wish that the pristine castle was your own forevever. I cast it all out, f here and something stonger.
I turn my face to a new day that you will never see. I am angry beyond admission and you know why.
I hope your little ass reads this.
I hope that the truth of the point reahces you long before the point, as it is, ever does. Do you bleed?
