Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Muddled cracked and disheveled.

Hello friends, I have been away tristing the horses for perpetual mastery lately, and have been letting my negligence get the best of me. Were I more prodigious with my alms, I could dispatch each of these putative teasings with the weight of each feathered hair.

This is really neither here nor there. Between the endless festoons of bewilderment, engendered mostly by the hair-lipped and snoutless children pushed wall-to-wall against each other in desparate futility; while the clenchant bouts fiercely through aneurysms and feeds off each labored breath; where weekly fears gnaw at harrowed childhood memories.

This is not that thing. Bishop and rook they took a walk into advokatskya class, into which bartender he said: 4 I will not cherish house fact not it was single token in limelight it said it did make or not it last Tuesday.

We are here instead => from each of the fly's thousand eyes focused on the coagulating blood drying in a pool from the hanging chartreuse gallows. Expeditiously, the fly flew 1.64 meters up, and then to the left, cherishing its glances wayward like a fat sack of stew hanging from the chartreuse gallows. This fly flain florth fluth flaying philanderous chartreuse gallows the.

Electric, babies. This thinking is electric. This is marketing. This is oreo fucking cookies. This is reality.