Lower echelons open my heart like a haunting, open my arms
like a bruising. Watch me grab the seniors and shoot the detectives with my
sharp set of heart diseases. It may well be savage but it doesn't concern me or
conclude my wariness. Going off the boil is all we can do in such a blue, unforgiving
environment as this now that the deputy has dropped his details and gone out
with the fridge light. 'Tis jubilation and serious at that, critical to heart
surgery whilst also immune to the Sun's eternal rays. I separate the scalpels
from the boys and kiss a radioactive skeleton or, as we call it, applying
pressure to skittish games. You are purchasing the witness and all his valuables
while the stick figures waltz with radioactive tuberculosis.
I
am opening out to cavernous honeycombs and lonely old gif weekends. Choking the
lower states just makes a saturated buffoon out of the widowed and possessive.
I saw the switch and pushed the aches into the blade rings so as to teach your
haystack a lesson without repercussions. The aim is to make you think your
pretending but you're actually in fact absolutely not. Ever. The round of
animation matures my culpability and vivifies her immortal presentation.
Beaming the chest to beyond the Turkish border causes me to throw bombs at your
grandmother's window. Deduction, destitution and detritus simplify the tassels
of wenches, those who seek to defy my gluttonous masculinity. It sickens me
like footballs to the rosemary bush. It just comes out rich, too rich like your
animalism.
It's
a powerful day to be truly bearded, you don't even require a cause these days
so it's perfect for afternoon strolls all over your lawn and perhaps some of
your neighbours. It is the fizziest hair I know and runs well against bathwater
that hasn't quite verified its qualifications yet. Home sweet vehicular transport
refusal. I am volume and do not fling pyramids into cylindrical questions. It's
a respectful form of fortitude, a superb sizing up of the masses. There isn't a
bad photo of the lot and I would wind the pipes again just to view the passageway
ahead of those steely-eyed cockerels. It is truly stunning to hear your ukulele
again. It keeps me straight.
So
much has relied on this moment to be a festering rover to bag ladies, so wear
it well. A various selection of teas shall be proffered to the tumbling
skyscrapers before they give up their brickwork entirely to the beasts that
dress in silent particles. Your cup trick will not suffice for this grand
closing, nor will it even help lift the curtain. There is a sickening thud
every time you slip your hand into the doorway or awning, there are balls up
and stalking promiscuous impressions of former dorm roommates. It's a feather
to come, a thing to say 'thou' to and never feel bad about retrieving the lies.
You see that? Those yoghurt pots are tumbling.
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