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.
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