Let's Go

Hop the blot crack. Wrinkle a trigger to Pythagorean hammers. The root stirs wallowing. Apollinaire’s faucet appoints the flow of water to a care of the face. I’ve considered an epilogue for the grandeur of the sideboard. Cut the light into trickles and you’ll find hills. Punch constructs a palette in the mind. The attraction jungle is sheer enkindling. A palatable fall there is that chronicles the residual effects of time on a bruise. I hover the table insinuating oysters. I’m a teeming boil of perforated thunder. That’s me whistling. I have a basket full of bikini pegs. I stir the horizon with hope. Visit the drug and rise. The smear in my heart is the hope left over from the last hope. I’ve remembered a concentric artist and walked alive to wash my sight and see the wind lift the water. I’m rounded riveted and deepened by the rumble of connectedness. The magician’s jellyfish explodes. I’m going to argue my brain to France and back. I have a strength mint and float a dream while I eat it. I open the suitcase in piles. The sweater is crucial to my view of mimicry. Dig the study and hold it deep. Sing a slow resistance. The oak is leaning into the horizon. Boom in the herd sense. The headlight pumps flowers into view. Moccasins accordion the bare heart to a confusion in the garret. The red rain is a simulacrum. Our tastes are diffused in tuna. The exhibition, however, swelled with despair, the kind that hope feeds on, and builds it in space. Gasoline does the rest. Start the car. Let’s go. Kineticism gets our biology hot.