And that’s only half of it

I sat by silently as doctors ripped into my research like it was a patient due for a quadruple bypass–
I rode the bloody carcass of a cow down a dark highway, pitching over potholes and narrowly scraping other cars like fingers on a chalkboard–
I jotted down a few notes on poverty as the silverware rang out louder than Big Ben at midnight–
I spent the night in a bed of strangers as the prostitutes paraded past in various states of disarray and Modesty slipped down the fire escape as the gin flowed freely–
I ran with the wild dogs and they came back and bit me in the butt with their rabies fangs shredding jeans like paper–
I trashed my taste buds testing textures of animal parts not even considered fit for hotdog meat as eager children grabbed greedy handfuls off my plate until it vanished like a black hole–
I vacuumed up a baby from the womb, washed her off, and handed her to a still-grimacing Hillary Clinton, restoring her faith in humanity.

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Because Russ L asked

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