winning pies

winning pies

Pies pies who ate all the pies?

My crossed eyes and dotted tees are all over the place right now. Shit betch, I coulda died and gone to never never landing on my trippy toes. Why all the funk?

These days I’m seldom drunk, just selling out of days to laze around, rolling in the sun and surf.

I love to smurf, all dummy dayze long a bottled frenzy feeding the sharks…the coast is swimming in them. I repeat, I love to smurfberries all the love long wayward wending. I went to sleep and woke up in a dangerfield flare, camping my way to a shuffled slip on the talcum-powdered floor. I loved that Melbourne truffle herb, as it lined the back of my throat, back to school it’s not so cool, back to the pencil-traced taste, testing my limits and bending my budget slip on shoes… I never!

Never never again, that’s the way I love to sway these favorite little morsels of handsome men, they’re all the same sometimes, sometimes not. Shut up says Anna as she sits next to me changing treks, backward and forward landmasses and masses of mileage.

Not this time tho. Funny, instead of driving we’re diving into tap tap tipppity slap me on the knee and laugh my head off.

I’m laughing a lot these days, and I really do love it.

Yup, that’s the way we love to smurf.