In an oasis of work and competition, never be a stranger. She was a lovely sort, though she was a professional running to the hills in hot air. Strangely, the whore blacked out with tears of joy. Later that morning, his head stuck out of the window, laughing like a loon, like a dog on the leash on the corner. Like removing a fake beard, with a maybe-this maybe-that mood. A residential street leading to a persistent rining of supine bodies in black corduroy. It is a highly stressful fabric, with unnerving encyclopaedic mellowness. He remained where he was, being high on something, pulling on a joint, hanging himself from the upper window of the end of the world party. Depending on your point of view, it could be interpreted as a 100% bonafide blessing. Still beating like a madman, who had a rough morning with younger crowd. Arching his head around the door, languishing around a cigerrette with huge innocent Christian charity, for fucks' sake. Branching off hitchhikers from Red Sea seperating Sunday supplementing a stiff drink, and stepped out into the chilly garden with a whiskey tonic of Jack Daniels and two black eyes.
Add that to the heathens. Absence of hell. And then the grave was the grave. Just under the top soil. Kingdom whore. Tossing and turning in her teeth. Mortex tried to explain. will be ressurected unbounceable books. impressive satchets. carry ban and forgot the elevator. October 1974, attention. For claiming Barthes missed 4'0 clock meeting. She petrified it was with dread multitude of joint contracts doorbell shelter wind voice company over compensation walked kind of terror jesus dear lord decant dragged in happily shoving tiny kitchen table doing here crying honest truimphant i let him in having a nice chat haven't we young man. glowing in a manner smirked ryan topps clara's mother convivial relationship harder to pick outside the school gates chatting happily bowden corcucopia of cookies lively conversations approach the kitchen sullen ryan excuses and leaves look of sympathy comment on clothing what was happening to ryan mother of a drug addict or a serial killer ryan expert. over hearing definitely not dealing with each other she wouldn't allow herself to shoving them aping pockets when clara persuaded she squinted underneath his sweater its glean hardly visibile silver glint silver cross happy with the miracle logical extremes. on some morbid horizon. false circle. save her. trying clara ryan scooter defeat. go as my mother. please proferring. very much time left. you'll macbeth. 11:19 PM 11-10-2024
It was nice, and not badlands by Malick. Love is not a hard thing to allegorize by heathens with passion unthinkable. One month into the marriage and the reversion of children with bloody eye less palace is so Indian. Ravenous trees ground hogging Costa talk and museum talk is so different mayan calendar bullshit miraculitude. These were the thoughts that silently kept playing in the accordion. Those two gullets is drawing to an affectionate turtleneck. One hot February day the horse was petite and short chortle and cursing soapy waters. Probe into the problematic mohair and high window and almost seem to unfur elephant tie women and cat and dog lava lake old flake asana with a catholic preist. Shall we get on with the consecrated ceremony and age 47 hovering above the printing nothingness. WOnderfully gloriouslhy meningitis less. Two indians samad and iquator. mai idea i have nown the old bwoys then it is the mission to make them happy wallowing in the french and samad and sana. no idea who werewolf and musically joyfull gnomes and sheepish shoes back on the hovering pint hole pinhole and pinball studiousness. the only wellwisher and curiously note taking usually mistaken petunias. 11:33 PM 11-10-2024
No comments:
Post a Comment