The Devil's Legs

I found myself stretching on my white carpet thinking of my blog post and kitchen. I thought about the three consecutive farts I found before stretching. What Alonso? F*** no! I feel he loves me but a girl's voice says he just wants to copy me. I think it's about who loves hardest and proceeds. I hear voices. I'm not remembering who loves harder. The voices come and go, and she didn't continue days ago. I held for her but brushed her aside. So, I hear one girl cry from the pressure and "GO" voices, voices that incite, excitement. I was dancing previously with the house front door open, trying to not be seen or get caught. I was behind the metal door dancing when a group of boys passed walking down the street. I almost gave the steps, of my non stripper routine, to myself. I move my feet. In my room I can call back and bring back my arms. I'm listening to Kiss FM win dependent fans and fans win Wango Tango tickets. I called twice to win and although I called many times, I ended up watching a NBA Playoffs basketball game, the Grizzlies vs. the Trail Blazers. Maroon 5, "Sugar", is playing on the radio. It's number one on the top forty. The commercials, many are functionalist, then the sweepstakes tear my brain to shredded pork and telephone announcements make me feel sneaky and painfully told. I turn off the radio and "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight", is on the t.v., that is, Cutting Crew or Justin Bieber? It was my mom's doing -ha! I too wanted more. I also want to win. The steps to find the artist and title are many. I turned the radio back on. My mom went to the store and I stand alone with backbone. I need a shower and hairdo. I can call myself, like stretching, to know if I'm alright. I made a video recording of myself singing. It's simple and fast, but there is nothing smarter and funnier for my mental reactions. I need a shower. It's a party today. When Blanca can sing, I'm prescribed mental health medication. The day is shared, split, I can feel shredded beef, but I'm as gold as gold. Cheddar is a good substitute for gold, when? I get it. If we get it anyway we can, we win. It's difficult. It's the hardest, totally. My sister's birthday passed. I'm full of morning Posole and techno in a disco blouse. I have the cutest baby blue nails, except on my pinky. I don't know what happened to that paint on it. The only red jacket I have makes me Michael Jackson's Latina calmed down from dancing, but crazy cute and cool sister. I completely understand my life, then it's a heavy duty bathroom recess.