Mo you are a sunflower
With big seed pods in your ovaries 
Bumble bees and wasps pollenate you
And give rise to humanoid yellowjackets 
These new hybrid creatures will be your deadly spawn seeking to chemically castrate the wicked snakes
Imagine joe and jill running up the hill chased by your offspring 
"somebody get the stinger out, help us"
But all his secret service would already be stung laying on the ground frothing at the mouth

You have a powerful colony
That's touching.

Or touched.
Social media? No, my friend. Antisocial media. Cool
I wanna feed mo cookie dough from my spatula until she bouncing off the walls playin with fuzzy balls
When the annals of my heart are leafed through, finally, by the AI, it will be met with a fierce security system: the voice of Gilbert Gottfried screaming out the lyrics to this poem, set to the visual of 1970's Gene Simmons swirling his tongue in and around a pregnant cow's bloated, warm and hairy udder, one teat after another, very slowly, with both wickedness and great care.
Where has MO been?
One of the most beautiful things I've ever read.
M.O. is the 20 ft sunflower that all the neighbour's are jelly about.. ;)

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