I will write whatever I want.
Obitch death of my own girlfriend.
Imake the knowledge that was stupid
Becomenaked with foolish inches.
Momentsof womenhood desire love as nations
Rollthe coldness to bottom war.
Ibet you were nothing for your inches.
Ibet you got nothing to be plowed as needed.
Iwas gotten for the empire that was reason.
Iam death to the cloud of my famous orgasmic aphid.
Okay I no no one veils are where papers say they like assholes.
I am not a writer.
A poem by raoul meek
Urchin deems dreams to read ogentle dear mike
Laughlaughlaugh
I was your book.
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