Villainess’s Sweet Everyday

I am driven by the urge to spit and rub on even gum. There's no point in that. Of course I understand that. When I cage my strength in my shoes, that part degenerates like a soft-boiled broth and falls like a bottomless swamp. Then I felt like I could cook a marijuana cake after being swallowed up to my waist, even though I was scared to escape. Or try to encourage appropriate delusions. You haven't had that white braised lately. Shall I ask the chef? I wonder if there's a rice cake that keeps growing everywhere, well, that's okay.