Post Haste..

If I was to copulate with a cow and suddenly become a respected mind of his time, you must slam my face into a bookshelf.  This is the need of genius as known for thousands of years of great heartfelt mutilations.  I am standing still and the cliff holds me for your hug.  I was best loved as a baby anyway.   Today in spite of things I work in the salt mines and do inner work.  Call me a fool, but i am also an idiot.  So inside aligators and elevators  I must spend the rest of this existence speaking riddles to tickle your inner innards till someday you will become a chicken with your very own gizzard.  That's the actual dilemna anyway.  Send fan mail fast.