Tony Robbins

Some melodic flowery prose for your Friday afternoon.

Oh, Monty. How I've missed your scent, your musk, your essence. You truly are the Salton of the sand lot. Exalted above all others, our chance meeting today was like a ray of sweet sunshine in an otherwise cloudy day. You are the powdered sugar of life, the raspberry of elation, the American cheese of sweetness. You're depth is unfathomable, a dark warm cave for just you and I. So many layers yet each put so perfectly together, the mesh so tight, that I can't help but think you were put here by the hand of God himself. Always willing to open up, you shed your hard shell and reveal your soft inners to me. Your honesty and forthcomingness is a welcome change in this world of hidden feeling and deceiving faces. The light reflects off your golden bronzed skin conjuring images of the ancient Roman god Apollo in all his glory and splendor. Your power could defeat Medusa, the Cracken and Tony Robbins all at the same time. To touch you is to touch perfection and to bask in your presence makes me fulfilled once again. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. No one I wouldn't kill for you. No kitten I wouldn't eat for you. Your greatness is so incomprehensible even God is jealous. I kneel to you and pledge, once again, my everlasting devotion, which no man will tear asunder. Guide me to inner peace and quench the unyielding hunger that burns within me like a spider monkey on fire. Sooth my worried mind, grease my guts and stuff me with your love. Calm my bowels as I make you my own.

I promise I'll finish you tomorrow. Thank you Bennagin's.