29/06/2014 - DID I HEAR YOU RIGHTLY: THIS IS THE END?

Did I hear you rightly: this is the end? A break perhaps, injun. I know I can trust your hearsay to carry me with a real work over of gin. I’m telling you: this is how elaborate gets packed up and turned into boys in their own right. The hunt is on for something better, something more interesting to do with these hands and fingers and groggy verb-noun dancing. Stupid as marvels, I will go to the option menu of my spirit, my Yahweh and open in most cowboy contracts. Just cough it up: just cough up your colon and rot the stones through the fire found in the immortal belly of guitars. You have killed all the cures in my chest with your name and credit card numbers but we can never understand the poets of white men, never truly. We’re a restful nation of two, dear reader, and now it’s your turn to take the shift.

Some are born to stain glass with the sound of big hitter breasting while others draw pistols and fuck: I don’t know where the rest of the world stands but you’re a good damn question in your own right, in the hallway of horse-faced greenery. Smell my hat so that I might rekindle the sense that I know is common within my turmoil growl, within the words that I choose to knock into order that defies even irreconcilable unconventionality. I covet more than I will earn, ever and again as the horses descend a woodpile hill in greyscale pottery classes. I’m stringing the portions of synapses together to make a fancy bunting for the eagle stench.

Why don’t we, Fiona? Why don’t we go, Erasmus? Why don’t we go out, Mara? Why don’t we go west, Neil? Why don’t we find Mr Thank down the Ritz, arranging saddles for camels and their Lancashire writer riders in an attempt to silly billy and regain the virgin nature of aboriginal luck.

 

Oval is just	you know what i heard about eating habits	THIS IS SOMEONE YOUR AGE	Who/How	Do you have tobacco or beans or hurt?
Themes are womanly, manly and of the egg farm	I’m about to say nobody can live the life of a solo bear	I SAW GOOD ENOUGH	THE BULLS ARE YOUNG AND TRUSTY	as of now the gingham jacket is nehru and nary hairy?

 

• That’s me, wanted loaded and rejected by social custom simply because the colour of my clothes has changed during the extraction of various mutated soldiers from the shipbuilding facility.
• What moans softly, leans the quickest on cobblestones and their spaces thereof. It’s the last film role before death but strangely not the last time you’ll appear on TV.
• Just what is that anyway? Ahatahatahatahahatthewinchesterfeelsfealtytopossumbeansandthedamnpeltskinbedamnedexclusivelywhilethewounded provide meals

 

I say it’s time to eat the water and buckle on out of here. It isn’t good for my health to be anywhere else but upside, topside and hot as coal. Now it’s time to balance ages.