A Poet Walks Into a Bar . . .

Somewhere there's a god in heaven
a god with whips and sticks
that sends a whole pack of diseases
down to little kids

By far the worst of these curses
is the poetry bug up their asses

but these things too shall passes
sorta like sinking ships < cliche alert, right where I need it
 
the dancing nanners look like some kind of wild sybian machine attachment with awkward little clit stims and anal pokers doing a counterpoint to the main thrust.. :p :nana:

bet you're a hoot with ink blots

:D
 
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*briskly places your hands on the wall in front of you, spreads your legs...*

ooh, this could be fun


naps rool :devil:

:eek: Whoo! careful, I've no dangerous weapon except for that blunt instrument in your hands. getting hot here, got to pin my hair up, do me? :rolleyes:
 
:eek: Whoo! careful, I've no dangerous weapon except for that blunt instrument in your hands. getting hot here, got to pin my hair up, do me? :rolleyes:

do you? now there's an invitation :D

this blunt instrument? concealed carry, hmmn? and there i was thinking you were pleased to see me.

ohhhh, your hair
k
*sorts you out*

better?

:devil:
 
do you? now there's an invitation :D

this blunt instrument? concealed carry, hmmn? and there i was thinking you were pleased to see me.

ohhhh, your hair
k
*sorts you out*

better?

:devil:
..
Much cooler thanks, *looks down*, at least now I can see what you're doing. How long do these searches usually take? :cattail:
 
yeh Harry, clit stems and anal porkers and Pabst, the holy trinity of Tennessee bar lunches. Or was that Kentucky. Which state has the mountains?

Both actually, I can see I've been eating lunch at the wrong establishments :cattail:
 
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