Roses are red poem. Hahaha this is about how my American Lit poetry is sounding right now, like nonsense words just thrown together with an occasional rhyme. =P

"Roses are red/My name's Dave/This poem makes no sense/Microwave" Hilarious. I would love to meet the person who put this poem on their body.

While we love tattooed women, often there is a star on the other side of the camera. Meet Hugo V an inventive shooter who splits time between San Diego and

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