Friday, August 5, 2016


Burst. What did? Collar stud dusty personality muscle grapefruit I myriadly decipher.
Motion stretch. Honesty’s rattle is a heavy throw. Call for an exterior angle. Something veering. See how a sensation is an acceptance study, a batch we expand into ears.
The swell thickens. The operation is on a roll.
Here I am pasting infinity’s leather mutations to a trembling flavor of pathos. The rounded basket with the basset hounds medicates the combustion of preteens. Induces kindness. Welcomes birds. Pulverizes court plaster. The ladies at court all smile.
The abstract is this jingle I bells on a blue orchid. You know? It’s a bit like a badge but more transcendent in its own diversions than a tangle of the mind or a grebe diving into the waters near Iceland.
This red light thing is only a mustache. I said it to build a monotonous tin chatter for a brown probability we can plunge into. Brown is an intellectual color and makes me reflect on boiling.
My act cures ten nobles of wishy washy Latin.
Fathom restoration then fight the barriers to partial differentiation. Trickle hinge subtleties. Your ceremony is a shade of language that I can engage in tailoring. Plough a slow theatre. Meditate paths. An ugly density converses with the ocean. My admonition is my door.
Sift structure.
The world pineapple spoon is its own abstraction.
I stir a burst grape to agree to impart a stimulation to the action behind the barn.
Tidepool spout.
Yell at your hair. A genie will appear and murder the mirror.
Ignite wealth. You do that by pushing money at a congress.
Go ahead. Bloom. The maple has a beard. The smooth it presses reaches geometry and folds. I cod swim there. I remembered to indulge. I’ve had time to think about it for a while. I touched the bump I mentally exceeded. Don’t start the hermitage without me. The crack is a drug eating into the purity of goldfish.
Walk and eat. It’s a solution. The split pea is our threshold. But the world is our halibut. This isn’t a matter of hit songs so much as a plea for arabesques. I compliment the sparkle of your river. The sweet words that are never said but empower descriptions manipulated by hose.
The burst is a forehead drooling cement. It’s all about prolonging the muffins. Forbearance is prayer. The paradigm vibrates its definitions but nobody gets the banishment. The weather at the end of this sentence has been seized by a shiny pain and carried to a woman on the dance floor. That’s why we have maps. Perception is irritating. Proverbs induce grace. Go there. Go amplify a sound of feeling time consenting to change into mind on paper.

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