09/04/2014 - ANOTHER HIRSUTE NOTE FORBEARS

Another hirsute note forbears the fine collection of vermin and the adept trades that come out of it like spouts of independent automata. He’s the one you should arrest, that chap over there, the one wearing YESTERDAY on a chain. He lives in a cabin, comes from it like a joust and proceeds to victimise the wranglers and peddlers for the sake of old man dignity. Ain’t the world a remarkable place? A fishy beauty overcome with maddening mod cons and salad dressing. The brawls stink up the air for monsieur. Swarm and you tag along with the travesty, making jobs for all the little chaps named Al and his jailbird friends. The brand of bran turns a man, makes him out of his skin with sloth. MANY is a word that is ripe for the nicking according to the popular censor, the one that runs most tall women off their feet for the sake of printed fanfare. Respectability doesn’t get a look in these days, what with all the hullabaloo and larks rising to the occasion and the threatening Battenberg cake display. Never concede defeat to the likes of which, always bear arms against a sea of troubles as you would a quilt stitched by all your favourite aunties from history. They probably existed at some point in time and space and just because they appear fictional grants you no right to be such a snaky young so-and-so with your mentality up to here and you dress size somewhere along there. We get along lovely and will get by without the harsh notations of your connotations.

Where the right-handed people all rely on tent poles to get around and classic credit offers to dry out their bones for the shapes of fouls to come. It's bullshit but we're all cannon. They're the ones who can be killed and often by raccoons crammed full of sweets and self-grandeur. Make up the mind with white people enforcement and then switch to the next to the fourth to declare shenanigans. The wings make all the map-reading so lonely and thick like a thrice forest during a bathroom break that sinks your teeth into balloon popping minigames that last precisely for as long as a full tilt takes to irritate the objective. Go back, it's not safe for water features or birds and we have been led to believe that you are both of them merged and melded into collaborative amalgamation. There are no ways to flip such cigarettes, to tell such lines like lies only without the rudeness and scorpion bling.  You did this for me? How tributary, how dorky, how hammered on and rock hard. Buzzing and shrugging all the way to bedtime and right beneath the sheets while the rest of the neighbourhood formulates wicked flip tricks for tuna farms that worry the longest. This isn't on any more, this is time-telling and we already banned it. It wasn't really part of the big game theory, it was a nubbin.