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.

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The pharmacy of your mind prescribing for my pleasure

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