My chocky milk, don't you touch my chocky milk! It's mine! No it's not! It's your face! Ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooccccccccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Fork pierces the flesh. Guided by hunger's demand, Savoury feast waits.
Tines dig deep within, Seeking the sustenance craved, A mealtime delight.
Belly grumbles loud, Yearning for nourishment's touch, Fork answers the call.
Food on the platter, Fork dances with anticipation, To satiate hunger's plea.
Digestion begins, Fork's journey now complete, Nourishing the soul.
Why does the fork go? To bring joy to empty hearts, Satiating needs.
In the stomach's depths, Fork finds purpose and solace, A culinary bond.
With each mealtime tale, The fork carves memories deep, In stomachs it rests.
A blind kid accidentally touches the emo kid's wrist and says, "I'm not reading all of that!"
I swear your eyebrows have attachment issues, they're touching right now.
Roses are red,
foxes are red,
I like your butt, let me touch it forever.
An alien walks into a bar. There is a guy sitting next to him, and the alien touches his shoulder.
The man says, "Do that one more time and I'll run you over." The alien does it again and gets ran over. They get back in the bar and he touches him again. The man says, "Do that again and I'll chop your dick off." He touches him again. The man pulls the alien's pants down and pulls out his knife. He was astonished at what he found. There was nothing there! He looks up at the alien and looks at his finger and fainted.
Roses are red, violets are blue, Old man Jeffrey touches the youth.
You're snorting cocaine with your buddies. Your eyes are closed, feeling the bliss of drugs, when suddenly something wet touches your nostril. Your buddy Mark stuck his PENIS in your face. You look up at Mark, and he says, "I'm sorry," and runs away, his pants still down.
your bus is so short....the wheels touch
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
Cousin: Hey, is that an octopus?
Me: Yes, what, it is just an octopus.
Cousin: Oh yeah, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Octopus touch me!
Me: What, it is just one..... ummmmm dad cousin d[id].
My dad said not to touch this thingy called a gun, but I looked down that pole and pressed that thing, and now I'm in heaven.
I love Fortnite because I touched grass for the first time and also I love Chung Lei.
How do you prevent a physics teacher from drowning? Shoot her before she touches the water.
Why do orphans play baseball
So they can touch home
Yo hairline goes so back it touches Jupiter.
Why do kids want to become cops? They want to find the guy who touched them.
In the realm where words wander free, A tale unfolds, unbounded and carefree, Jayden, a curious soul, embarks on a quest, An enigmatic journey, where desires manifest.
Marching through the corridors of cyberspace, He delves into realms of passion and grace, With a click and a glance, a world awakes, As pixels dance, his curiosity takes.
In the dimly lit room, shadows play, Jayden surrenders to this clandestine display, A voyeur to fantasies, unspoken and raw, He gazes upon screens, an uncharted draw.
Whispers of temptation echo in his ears, As he navigates through fantasies and fears, The allure of the forbidden, an intoxicating call, Jayden's senses entangled, in a mesmerizing thrall.
But amidst the symphony of moans and sighs, A realization dawns, awakening his eyes, For behind the allure, a truth is revealed, In the depths of this world, a heart left concealed.
Within the flickering scenes of pleasure's masquerade, Lies a yearning for connection, a soul's crusade, Jayden, march forward, beyond the screens, Seek the embrace of love, where true beauty gleams.
For within the realm of flesh and bone, A deeper fulfillment can truly be known, In the tender touch, in the warmth of a kiss, Lies a bliss beyond pixels, a love that won't dismiss.
So, let Jayden march, with newfound grace, From the fantasies that once held his embrace, For the world awaits, with its wonders untold, Where love reigns supreme, a story yet to unfold.
In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.
"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.
In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.
But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.
So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.
And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.
In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
