This morning you came by.
we slathered marijuana butter on rye toast.
It was burnt and laced.
You said there was always room for creativity.
There is room for us.
I poured a bowl of Kix. There were some sweet ones, some hard ones, and some mediocre ones. I was six eating Kix. I was inflicted with pox from chickens at the age of six. Over a cold bowl of Kix. I poured it myself. I ate three sweet ones.
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