Executed by tireless:
I wrote poetry when I was sixteen. It could have been worse. The choice of pastime. I could have taken up flower arrangement. The poetry could have been better. O Penis, Penis, Penis,What has come between us?When I laugh, why do you mope?When I devil, why do you pope?
Publishers might go for this teenage poetasting. A #0.5, a prequel, and a hormone sponge for my little book, which has been falling into the hands of white, male, North American sci-fi fans. Unerringly. Given the frequent, ironic references to planets and stars, I suppose it serves the little book right. Sentence these fans to tireless:. I can hear their whimpers.
“Cut off my biggest penis, but don’t make me read tireless:!”
Publishers might go for this teenage poetasting. A #0.5, a prequel, and a hormone sponge for my little book, which has been falling into the hands of white, male, North American sci-fi fans. Unerringly. Given the frequent, ironic references to planets and stars, I suppose it serves the little book right. Sentence these fans to tireless:. I can hear their whimpers.
“Cut off my biggest penis, but don’t make me read tireless:!”
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