57-J sent me a message. I found it in my in box. Fat Albert told her about a hoe. He said she is not nice. She decided to tell me. She said she’s twisted. I worry about youse people. Youse being played like a stradi.fucking.varius. It ain’t cool. Youse look silly writing to fools. It’s manipulation. You’re being mind copulated. Your brain is being fucked with. Do you get it yet????? She’s workin’ it. She begs for sympathy. I don’t want to hulk out. I don’t want to bust up the place. I’ll let Ace do that shit. He’s coming soon with his dried labia necklace. I wrote about it in my novel. You will love it. It ain’t pretty. I told you I was a savior. I am here to save you. Youse need to end that shit. Rubber stamp a big fat fucking N O on her ass. She’s playing games witcha. She loves feeling like the big dog. It makes her feel good. She feels like shit. She hates herself. She knows it. Hail bukakke!!!!!
Written by Roachmill like this? more poems by author Published 26th November 2013 4:49pm All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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