O, breath that turns to white cloud!
O, when in doubt, bring in the elephants!
I will admit it: the house is a blade.
It is even sharper when the lights
are on. This is what I think about when I see
nudity: my breath is a white cloud.
Boo hoo on the family. The family
is a combination of T-shirts left out to dry.
You woofin; you woofin with yo kicks
and ice like glass. My ice always says
bling, bling, foshizzle. I am talking
to the kettle. I am talking to the kettle.
The kettle is you. I will admit it. I ate venison
over the holidays. Knowing: this is deer.
Knowing: this was killed and left hung
to dry. Some days, I talk to the house.
Other days, you and I become the historians.
You, me, we in the whip. Together we
fackin, woofin, fillin up grills.