Emaciated
handbags drill and drill while today is a bible passage to the Sun. We failed
and failed again as the morning tide drank down the curve of the tiger hutch.
Samson did his research and denied all access to his fructose leviathan.
Quality publication requires the hands to slip inside courtesy and dress the
nails with gales. Recollect the recognisance that lustful Wednesday and don't
forget your coat. We left them in the cloak room before it tipped and tilted in
regard to the blazing horizon. Headphones bleed out and the frugal polarity.
Smelling the opinionated is a waste of faint waists. Shirts and fleeces are
greenery that jangle at the sun. The flare is a vacant burgeon. Snowy bells.
Snowing bells. Hell is progressive and damp. Velocities exceed and I don't trip
for anything short of an igloo. Phallic retardation is just one of the many influences
that drive the zenith zip. Ode to a clapping house. Flags and bulging cheeks will
enhance the yardstick to helpful reverberation. The maximum comes so watch your
back.
Observe
the plucked eyebrows and drain the crazed frenzy while I untangle the Christmas
lights from the rubber ribbon fighters. Dead things and strategies will
artfully attach. Rosy mandibles. Trauma. Trauma. Trauma. Glad hands and humming
the François. Holes in plastic will answer these troubles with reclining
fingertips and burgundy beards. Usurp the crabbing event before the children
take their place among the catty whistles. Tripods and ghastly bonnets will sift
through the postmodern japery. The banking rises and Erasmus is a giggly
golly-monger. Fell like seeds, wrinkled eyelids and dystopian porcupines.
Wizardry and smallpox are lost in my cross stitching. Intersections with rice
are my empty specialty. Produce the windscreen wipers and produce the branches
that sprout lanky sprouts. Leaflets hither and thither so catch them all.
Skewer
the protector and skewer him swiftly. Forty nine oblong factories shall gross
out the negligent violence. Cotton balls are brimming before the jubilant lark's
hometown. Browning the shanghais will bring about the braggadocios scent and
demand nothing short of the shameful, sallow, sibilant Susan child. Media storm
under shadowy peaks, that is what we saw before all the amateur dramatics. I
have lost all interest in inheriting the voracious nebulae and you couldn't
recognise that. Why have we come this for to run into so little? You are the
folds in my fabric suitcase and I am ashamed of the methods that choose to
stand ahead of us in this day and age. The mount is a faltering mint and your
gnarly glance shall close the door behind it.
Portentousness
is a tricky askew hat that rumbles the trouser department of every convenience
store in your locality. Raze the childish shorts to the ground and tell me
again why I have left the quibble to die among the pigeons. Ignorance is quite
like the sun in this respect; it has wings that it gave up on so many years
ago. I am aghast, I am.
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