...I am overwhelmed with happiness.
Midsummer afternoon poetry.
My ass has become as round as a peach, my boobies are blown up to heaven,
the bags under my eyes fit many gallons each, and I love to sleep in till eleven.
I perform dubious acts with my cats, and we purr and we lick in unison,
and we pat and we shake our prodigious butts, and we vanish in the line of horizon,
I by farting, thus propelling my way, they by bouncing and meowing excitedly,
I believe that this poem has gone rather astray, so at this point I’ll shut up politely.
And I’ll wave you goodbye, but I want you to know
that no mischief was done while creating it,
but my Muse is PMing and my mind is just slow
bet that too has to do with not dating.