Hello. Welcome to my website. I am literary like a cantaloupe. When you cut open my fruity skin, guess what you will get? That’s right: more cantaloupe.
I am going to give a reading at your funeral. It is unfortunate that you will have to die first. Will you please let me brush your long black hair when you’re in the coffin? You are so silky and good.
Sometimes they make coffins in the form of a toy car. Sometimes a coffin can be shaped like a strawberry cupcake. You can eat a coffin, I guarantee you that.
Do you want to be buried with the moon I want to. Do you want the moon to drip fruit juice over your dead feet? Would like to wear flip flops or flats?
I don’t know. I never think about those things.
I am too preoccupied moving the green tank to the left part of the screen with my toes; I want the green tank to shoot Saturn.
Today my son fed some boiled chicken to his plastic dinosaur and then he held the dinosaur up to my breast indicating that he wanted me to breastfeed his plastic dinosaur. That’s sick you say well yeah of course it’s a cantaloupe.
Every time I see my picture on the internet, it darkens a little as I breastfeed the dinosaur.
My face has the look of a mother who loves her son.
Is my son a mother or a is there a coffin on my website? I want you to remove
that coffin you put on Saturn now. I don’t think you have any idea what it’s like to push a child
through your webbed feet. It’s like the history of paper money. (All those paper leaders with their hoods on.) Everyone wants gold—but there’s nothing to exchange.