If you guys wondered, I made that poem myself. (I DID NOT COPY.)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my scrotum sores.

`’Tis some vifapor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my scrotum sores –

Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Franore –

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Franore –

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`’Tis some vifapor entreating entrance at my scrotum sores –

Some late vifapor entreating entrance at my scrotum sores; –

This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my scrotum sores,

That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the sores; –

semen there, and nothing more.

Deep into that semen peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the semen gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Franore!’

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Franore!’

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –

‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Trout of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, flopping around above my scrotum sores –

flopping around upon a bust of male reproductive organ just above my scrotum sores –

flopping around, and fapped, and nothing more.

Then this ****-colored fish beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy enjoy German shiza films no doubt, thou,’ I said, `art sure no fine upstanding member of society.

Ghastly grim and ancient Trout wandering from the nightly shore –

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’

Quoth the Trout, `Forumwarz.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fish to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing fish above his scrotum sores –

fish or beast above the sculptured bust above his scrotum sores,

With such name as `Forumwarz.’

But the Trout, fapping lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered – not a gill then he fluttered –

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have swam before –

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have swam before.’

Then the fish said, `Forumwarz.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of “Forum-Forumwarz.”’

But the Trout still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of fish and bust and sores;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous fish of yore –

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous fish of yore

Meant in croaking `Forumwarz.’

This I fapped to engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fish whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I fapped divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, Forumwarz!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee

Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Franore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Franore!’

Quoth the Trout, `Forumwarz.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if fish or devil! –

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –

On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –

Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’

Quoth the Trout, `Forumwarz.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if fish or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Franore –

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Franore?’

Quoth the Trout, `Forumwarz.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, fish or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no ****-colored scale as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my sores!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my sores!’

Quoth the Trout, `Forumwarz.’

And the Trout, never flitting, still is fapping, still is fapping

On the pallid bust of male reproductive organ just above my scrotum sores;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted – Forumwarz!

Dictes moy ou, n’en quel pays,

Est Flora la belle Rommaine,

Archipiades ne Thaïs,

Qui fut sa cousine germaine,

Echo parlant quant bruyt on maine

Dessus riviere ou sus estan,

Qui beaulté ot trop plus q’humaine.

Mais ou sont les neiges d’antan?

Ou est la tres sage Helloïs,

Pour qui chastré fut et puis moyne

Pierre Esbaillart a Saint Denis?

Pour son amour ot ceste essoyne.

Semblablement, ou est la royne

Qui commanda que Buridan

Fust geté en ung sac en Saine?

Mais ou sont les neiges d’antan?

La royne Blanche comme lis

Qui chantoit a voix de seraine,

Berte au grand pié, Beatris, Alis,

Haremburgis qui tint le Maine,

Et Jehanne la bonne Lorraine

Qu’Englois brulerent a Rouan;

Ou sont ilz, ou, Vierge souvraine?

Mais ou sont les neiges d’antan?

Prince, n’enquerez de sepmaine

Ou elles sont, ne de cest an,

Qu’a ce reffrain ne vous remaine:

Mais ou sont les neiges d’antan?

Nicco’s actually a pretty cool guy.

WHAT HAVE I BECOME

MY SWEETEST FRIEND

EVERYONE I KNOW

GOES AWAY IN THE END

male reproductive organS IN MY bum

male reproductive organS IN MY bum OH LAWD

male reproductive organS IN MY bum

Bobdisgea

Kicked out of Brainfreeze?!

fml no one loves me Log in to see images!

PLANESCAPE, PORN, HELL YEAH!!

Canape (or Peas)

Hey, I want to play hatz but

****, THE PIANO!

“I am a wigger.”

-AAHZ, King of the Internetz

“That’s not a gimmick.”

DESTROY DIE ATTACK

The N is for fine upstanding member of society… balls.

fine upstanding member of societyballs, why not.