Send me ____________ through my E-mail at the footy(footer // bri'ish)

I'm never going to dance again, wailing, taking,: some more rhythm.
Nary shall I dance again... because sometimes in lower moments I feel if I were that bad, you would've broke my legs. NOT to plant any seeds... The internet is crazy.
It's all an act, and a viscious cycle. Who knows what flows from a bored and conscious mind of dramatism, and poignancy. Or... Boyne... Boy... Nancy.... (say it phonetically? was that a poetic technique? Or am I going maduntal? Overdramflapperiffic??? SAY THAT IT IS SO.)
nary may I write to whom it may concern, breaching my poorly concieved thought clouds (of varying smells), BUT THIS TIME IT IS SERIOUS. STOP WHAT IT IS THAT YOU ARE DOING.
"I CRAAAAAAYYYYVE ATTENTION" - 2013.
A quotem. Lost. To the scrotum.
I'm afraid I've too much to lose.

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"I never thought to say this originally, because I wouldn't like to lose myself in a Social-Vacuum-Esque Hellscape.
Purely if you think I have something to be understood, or anything of value...
Then, and, only then.
Be a Fan.
I'm opening up the idea of conversational ramblings. I think I'm naturally born reactionary, but instilled within silence. Don't be silent...? I'm a rational Human-Rights advocate, and I create my own kindness adverse to systems of Politics, wherever possible. However I'm Just not a fan of Tories. Irony, however... makes me look at Hugh Dennis differently. Like a Human. Not a Toffee. Or John Cleese. Or countless other wealthy Artists I, "couldn't possibly", relate to."
{Poddy e-mail address coming soon.}