There once was a man named mood, who depended on it, to know what to do. Mood liked a girl named spontaneous, who wanted him to visit her anus. Figuring it would be rigid and dark because it was an un-visited spot, mood, wasn’t in a good one, and decided he’d rather not. He soon regretted it because spontaneous was sexy hot. Mood never recovered and ironically, sunk into a dark spot.

I write to breath. I write to give. I write for happiness.

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