Tempests behest (at their apparent heir), those pens broke dust with breaded sinners and diners nicely. An ode to the sugar, mounted atop peering lye and scan/dale, priusing of chuckle change and clangorous temple fudges; tombs akin to soaking prigs and hoary sore swears with lugging wheels squared with crowley and scrim; fire panted tunes of santa-lose and hum-bell sprinters wailing shim & shire thongs of abuse leaf canon; scimitars lit with tucked trickles of greasy corn pleas and player fastidiousness worn creased and easy, don't tease your brother, ol' mother sow with moth-in-pull and the cheating teats you made lore of with denim dreams aged seven and up through the eleventh daddy prong. A good horn hilted at inns and pottery, made through the bias shivers of coelacanth whim. A blessed mess this more than queasy east left fort western molest ocean's worth of ronald, chump, and terry. And harry, as stump spoken breeches would go, they'd all toke together, 'ploring of piss and weed, stoking their chins & pins and coppertone slacks stacked over tubes and an october ruse; lads with dentine hips, byzantired ol' ships, slugs tugging wimply lean; foster sisters with the huns and whisps, keen to rattle a skyward jean, so high you could smelt the cotton subs with a brass and keel and johnny dice motor door whisker, abated in shadows, rested well save for wednesday's son, so eclipsed in crumbles, those teas would toil, boiling greenbacks runside-up, mocking in yoke scolding colors beholden to mild praying, a knee deep stink as we all begged for a mere twenty to lossy our gasses and pretend, again, all was linty with smilewides and caverns of honey.
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