Dictated

  I was once a poor manufacturer under the Tuscan sun weeping like a nightmarish woman Is holding my own face in high levels of boredom and washboard abs I was looking Is for a big hands and wanting a little Wang.

 I can no longer go slowly I must whisper my mind out of a car's dream I wanted to lay down on your hanging on a mechanic quick quick quick I was fleeting I was a feeling of thought a mission emotion I f***** Your hands like a sleepy potion while a bees wall of these wingers and try embarrassed don't fall down the liquid path of regrets reigning in your f****** face I don't give a f****** f*** about your little whiteness.

 The deer rumbles of Lewis Carroll and Charles dotcherson must remember to wake up when there only little boys inside the back aches of wandering through no one else's metaphorical dreams of Of Bobby elong coming I don't wish I were a temporary and sweet sweeping Brown Brown Brown folds of mommy d*** the white whale and The turnpike's are looking like elephant beamsunder houses that if they're getting washed the walls with no one else is possible or Possible religion.