I Like Beer, Especially Your Beer

At least somebody is laughing.

Your stoic stare is making me sick, and I can’t even see it.

I’m serious.  Don’t smile.  I mean it.  Stop smiling.  That shit is getting old.  Like preschool, but I do like crayons.  Literally.  Crayons.  On your face.

Your teeth are sharp and they make me nervous so seriously, stop smiling.  The crayons are in the washer with your whites.


The pharmacy of your mind prescribing for my pleasure

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