Weary spirits in the open - potted hair, Regional. -
- "These are not just.."
- "Why? Have you got any problem with this particular arrangement?"
- "I'm afraid I do not know whether someone is trying to buy something like that for me.. I do not know that."
- "But you cannot tell anyone, and I will not tell stories,
and there will be no home.."
- "How do you do Annabel?"
- "I'm afraid it..."
- "No fear"
Baudelaire opens. The precocious son bakes Madam Bud's day.
Phenomenons were originally rooted to the past. Kinder flames in our house, (after all our only attention lay in Googoo Talk Macaw Tubes and Nightmares)
In the car after
Bedrooms. Frozen patterns lie ahead and I camp cheap.
- "Did the masked ones not teach you how to think?"
- "where are they?"
- "nevermind. just capture the savage beats"
- "don't ask."
Men in bovine movements.
dreams and ammonia.
coiled snakes, forests, foresters, torches –
monasteries of the core.
- "What'll be the outcome of our time?
- "Depends on how much we hate"
- "You can have your ride. Today we did face a number of storms, but I am very happy. I will give you happiness if that's what you want."
- "I don't know, I can't see."
And then I'll tell her how we dunked the inordinate and coded beasts of reticence.
Puke Open. Ambrosia and amnesia. Tactile projections.
My name is < insert customer name >
mosaiced sea of the putrid blank.
my name's not on the list.
I was younger and I was meat and those damningly insane lightning-bolts.
This was our home, mother.
Phone rings and:
"how many times have I said that I'm too busy to talk?"
I return to the damnation of directions
l look as the splendid fairies of mercy and sunset flow down
in sad red gowns
This is the terrific outing,
wholesome cognates out of my own pallor
24 karat arid and the first ideas of mortality
and I was looking at the sands.
warmth and dots to comprehend all want
some of the girls who were going by the river
also pee on tables.
I came up with that.
I have an honorary hat
Opening sermon 8 of the seer:
We are trapped in palatial frames and
flatly sybaritic times and spaces;
We get hunted down by the ten headed monsters of doom and dimension.
We are building the floor. I came to placate the new tenants.
Cemented to senses and illusions, we die.
Nightsongs of sharply cold fury. Whores looking at mirrors
because of my mother
we address the pussy -
'in the age of terror.'
"It's the King who knows of the cave-kids inside
you would not dare to ..."
It's a zoo
Add sugar to the pulpcore pink
lick your fingers
down we go.
I think that both sex and death need these blasted frames.
ghastly symbols of the nightmare:
-"paranormal ... it’s ... it’s...."
- "What exactly is it?"
Lady of perfect widom says - "sometimes a little while longer in the open without begging" - "ah but i I really cannot!"
Baudelaire closes. 11. Was at 3.1
There goes the enemy who knows.
I'm at home with the roots but not with the smooth shadow of screams and thirst
I tried to sleep only after a while
under the brutal earth.
liberation of the wolves.
from what I gather, things stand just as we taught them to
it's all about the pushbike-terms - my big one:
I think of Ophelia floating under mooney willows.
I was able to tell a story where the events were such that, laying out of the chalk ache flesh,
women of love,
laying down of the guns for Lactobaby
during the entire process.
and then the godly trains arrived.
I was in the middle of the street
But the shapes and I had a match in Cheese-pacified colloidal open fields,
and then it all come back as a blessing
- "He had me go to bed at..."
- "No way!"
- "Diameter on the ethanol aha.... that peace, then I started my work, I pay for my turn to push forward this ilk"
- “I was conscious of it as senses bedrooms and churches echo ancient chants”
- “then do not come.”
- “I have a dream once about feeling this panache of furtive fortitude. I do not think I could have come to light or darkness from the outside or the inside my brittle symphony. I love it as much as they love their monuments"
-- "Gomorrah fur hat up. pants down.”
- “Now I...”
topical bawdy and elite stories.
Eg. 1: we create a temple for the soul
Eg. 2: a cat will show the path of salvation to the people who know me
Eg. 3: we didn't know that the temple was to be released from decay
Eg. 4: the temple was for you to give a free hand.
Semi-audible era Confederacy Story
|About Meg Shambolic|:-
(fuck the vision of love)
"How open is the open dark?"
I told his honour:
"woman of love... her birth has empowered the cuboids today."
And I volleyed down: "Who said that the Oracle not passing well? Tight Oracle was in the thick of it" I raged
- "And the children?"
- "Do not say anything. My children. I would like to save them."
My partaker protect
- "Can you really say that?"
I told her that I was standing at the entrance of the Barbaric Tomb
- "It will not tell this to anyone." -
- "Listen to the clockhand. your mother's in it."
- "I have noticed the fond folds of paranoia"
- "What do you say? is she the mother of his treasurer?"
- "I do not like the Bacchic sage-karma-china jokes."
Banned corporate vision with glasses but let's
with naphthalene surprise.
Ashore were the 93 found behind mossy walls.
The idea is to cut through the middle.
- "Is there nothing beyond personal pearls and shits?"
- "meats don't ask."
- "describe primal essence."
- "throbs and agony"
(stern angels of bereavement came down from the sun when she was talking of the Holy Open)
I said "Drop it, will you? you are cooking it all up inside. Let's turn around from this monstrous statue."
- "Is the rant as bad as you say it is?"
The rest of comely Uranus was translatable like milk and tenderly thick litany
bareheaded heroes from cola-ranked bridges, with their horses like long-chained encryptions,
just makes for dogged apathy.
i'm thinking of the coordinates:
- "would you let your mind sleep with mine?"
I do give more than I get and I opt for the rain-adhered kid,
and channels glide along: "morbid paradises, so the whole theme is, umm, the roof of the night."
I said "good reward", but she came not.
- "Touches do and Oops!”
- “Humorous and absolutely gargantuan, but it's Bach, and not an earthquake”
to the outhit messiah I say:
- "Well, you terrorized the roof and romances.
Father, I shall not fear."
acquired experiences from the foundations
:: :: opportunity to work within small cyclic structures. candles, moths, sisters, serenity, sonnets, radio, calcium, succulence, gangrene, grandeur, kabuki, hostility, synhesis, tenor, teacher, lassitude and even the circuses of Molotov and vitriol opened :: ::
he was reluctantly into management: bulwarks, umbrellas, pillars, regimes, constellations, carnage, impacts, puppets, reticence, calcium, minstrels, carbuncles, solitude, solstice, deathmama, masterpieces.
On the other hand, fingers and the eyes were in the sonata as the Ghost.
Let's go to the new place and see the damned gallerries
it's time for the twenty-one sacrificial rites
waste and decimation
twenty-one flowers dancing in loose order
the beautiful lady her stained glasses
underachievers in rags like broken teeth,
lips like petals.
New conditions of fun will be laid out once the plague unleashes.