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Scrawl on the Wall 019
So, Doctor Wimbly, out here to whore me out to your drug-crazed, burger-eating, Happy-Clown friends again?
Think those shrinks can make me tiny. Think you can make my mind a shriveled up walnut?
I doubt you have the balls to tame me, bitch.
Admit it. You secretly fear my ninja-fu.
I know you are shivering behind that clipboard.
You think you can predict my motions and emotions, my actions and reactions.
But there's no box for "Extremely bad-ass and awesomely cool" for you to check in your long list of prepared notes.
So I will just sit here and baffle you for a little bit longer.
Once, I lived on a park bench in New York and described myself as a hungry little squirrel, looking for love and tasty treats
But now, I live alone in my private nut hutch
Doctor Wimbly, put that pencil down.
There aren't words.
There aren't numbers.
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