Shopping Trip

So I stare at tits and various cotton heads as I stroll through the demi-Macy's. My cramps intensified by every suck on my butterscotch.

"I'll park the car honey," he said as he dropped the bat off. Her baldness barely covered by a bland permanent. Sirens blare behind me but I don't look, I'm over that. But I'm not over my fear of housewares and juniors. A couple of gay dudes walk by (I'm reminded of reality). Kids bounce circles around their scummy mothers and the arm pulling begins.

A prion malicious, bouncing off my skull like a nightmare I can't recall.
Menacing my mentality. I don't understand why I constantly recall such a damned pompous display. The thoughts tingle my brain with numbing discomfort- distractions! DISTRACTIONS!

You typed this shit.

She's Wearing A Strap On

Give me that lady from back in the eighties
with high hair and black on. She's wearing a strap-on.

Y'all go on and laugh at me
you can kiss my white trash ass.
And if the owner of the trailer park don’t like it,
then come on and get a piece of me mutherfucker.