The heavens have cast me aside, my time is done, maybe I'm no longer useful to them, I've lost, my youth and innocence, what are they to do, with a used up dish rag, throw it aside, use it to clean the floor, or leave it for the raccoons to find, the fruit has been bitten into, it’s covered, in maggots and worms, hey, poor people have to eat too, she has three kids, but the fruit is still good, put your mouth on it, slobbering saliva all over it, I'm sorry, I still dream of it, your mom’s panties, unfortunately, there is no resolution to this story, we’re so old, I’ve gone senile, and I keep wondering, where is the road?
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.