Papa Where The Comma Go

When the baby sleeps, Mama know you better too. Ha. Ha. Bookends for my bitches, trials for my tryptych, the bitches being my right and left hemispheres, tetchy boogers, ain't ya? That sentence, is where I turned into a Lorrefish, said the line and shot myself. Too many b's too many s's, too many slices of nothing, matching madness, sorry, the cold hard reality, as if. Casablanca is not for you and Van Nuys Airport no longer looks like that; beautiful friendship? You vetted?