Two bitches and a beer

I got back in my car and drove home, near tears (PMS). I cursed everything and everyone. The overpowering flow of emotions was tresspontaneous and very Romantic.

I quickly pulled over and penned the following:

And like a dying dame, gaunt and befuddled, The bee-atch totters forth, hound tightly cuddled Led she was by the drive to create missives unabated The rheumy glow of gloming's evening vespers to be sated And amber ale at the beckon, to ghostly wonderment in love's true fealty I do reckon' Alas, she got pump-jacked and denied by some douchebags. Kiss my ass. Kill kill kill.OK, now I feel much better.

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