In the end satisfaction is a bald bloke with a bladder
problem and that seems natural. It is also a great way to show the
establishment of biscuits in the legal system, with all the clattering and lazy
poets putting on their beards, slapping on their huge dicks. It really is as
simple as that with slacks and robotic limbs that say so much about media dying
out with a mysterious stereo in the back causing viral videos to pop out of
their tops. This is mob mentality with trampled buy outs and credit reports. Just
you take some pictures of yourself, gazing up at popular monuments with coffee
toss instinct lactating all the way through an otherwise hopeless day.
This is a craggy stop-frame that talks
with pretty call-backs and immunity of the mass introduction being told and
untold and cherishing the option of taking another one’s trousers off. Could
testing women’s costumes really chamber the interlude with pasteboard wheels.
The lurking does go on with nicety and a naked night ensues with jumper
commentary and sitting pollution. This is good and numerical and filled with
coming out on top of building trauma in the static basement of fracture delves.
Such sweetness. Very interesting. Very sworn. Things have come around with huge
darting in menswear aisles, namely around the more beguiling suits. The wars
are self-supporting, they’ve become self-supporting and back down in hashing it
out with brickwork objectives.
You look like a prat in Denver,
opening veins in arrogance of cactus dereliction of duty and oh my goodness the
engineers have done something marvellous with the hair on your trilby. It
remains undefined and untraceable and unconscionable if you look anything like
me in the morning. This is an update to create a better source for a better
document that itches less and scratches more with fragile purpose. This is an
unholy christened day and the book tidy needs redrafting before the maternal
grandparents pop in and start up their annual staring competition with fag ends
poking out of the creamy puckers.
I've
got you as deep as thrombosis but I've got the aesthetic ready and armed and
totally killing butt. As of now, asking shall not only receive, it will make
turnips out of the liars we've all come to trust in their fibs of varying
sizes, it will transmit their essence to a sandwich board preacher where it'll
wither up in the silence of an understated thought process. Some might say that
I'm kidding myself for the sake of you but then I am a retiree with his fingers
dilly-dallying at Easter when we all know that's the wrong season entirely to
be celebrating. The snow will eat me up and I fear that you'll cheer it on with
sleigh bell sleight of hand and a turkey in the delivery. They promised me that
you would be an absolute prat but I'm yet to see past your sodding coattails.
This is your cot from three years ago, is it?
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