apostrophe beach; echinoderm brine: March 2013

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Retreat

Scratch your lids and get the ed. out. I took three pills for the weekend -- one for each owl pile (that surrender piteous look!) -- and shook the sugar bag all over the mall. ("Cod damn") ...
Left over brinkley, the sins of ever-less seemed to keep a kin down, and I mean doubled-down, the haggard and saggy toothed guise, the kind of cousin you do not ever bring home to kiss in front of mom. Still, it was worth a shit. Two piles full of feather, the third derailed and left to fallow yields for an uncle and fellow patriot to mull their teas in and misplace an's with ampersands. The home was where the earth was, and say what you will, a cough here or there wasn't enough to dismiss or coin a phrase that sent one off on a tear of crabbiness or bilateral fare. Were if that not ample, try a skinny on. Be sure to make it furry, stuff the chest with air, and tend to otherwise easley piels -- it's that weeze that gets the corn off, after all! But I never bought it and kept on scratch and sniffing. More piles will await you, even if you're all AWOL and ship-shape for flight, or maybe just standing where once there wanted a more or less pronounceable lean by sources unseen. Keep restructuring that sentence, though. Jeeps and secrets in cups? Never dance with a fish while raking in the feathers -- it's no pillow, but a rebellion.

ties confused for noose support

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

my gravy eaters

The pawn of creativity has been on a heel-sprint towards hiatus. The lawn of nativity has been on a peel-print towards tendonitis. The yawn of cavity has been on an eel-pint towards high eighties. The fawn of activity has been on a deal-isn't towards hating us. The brawn of relativity has been on a feel-spring towards lye ate is. The dawn of gravity has been on a hello-spit towards my anus.