There is love reaching out, perhaps as a pig trained to muffle
A chocolate truffle
And in his/her cites, ignites, ICE, ICE ICE Baby soul, rich in emblem, such a tit tight emblem such a nit pick nostrum come out of the dog pit pig pot, of a tune smith using Vanilla Ice talents up on the rostrum, black wild prison child, child pluck a silent string from the stream exhausted by London, holding bonds, to cause a brave to go coward, to a red light district,
ICE, ICE Baby– immigration customs enforcement– vanilla migration in a custom of chocolate, especially chocolate truffle investigation, pig lux and lascivio snout to scout smut, putt the vanilla abuttment deluxe, pig in a tux, lipstick on pig, on pig in tux,
Vanilla Ice, crew cut ablaze, systematically humbled, in a shrewd buttercup maze, to be hovered, ever numbered, as if to fly, in a Vanilla Sky, going down south pole riding the rainbow, on a playground been played. A sweet beat slide, a swing, a refulgent bleating Evil Knievel, bo weevil, as James Bond, on Little St. James, whispered in whisper to reclaim,
“Citation clit, amber, remember September, resolve Truffle troll l’Tramp, a pilgrim eating sheesh as out of East River, of Hudson, valentine, a kid who is mosely, mamammaamma remembers the grave, throws mumbly pegs, digs thrum, whapping spectacular, a hum.”
Spam of Human Affection 
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