the steady jerk of lest, boy did he have a few: extra nips from the e-bottle, various vapors imbibed, a veritable tapir, the deep woods kind, protrusible, rude, and with all likelihood, an inability to not hit you like a school bus when you least expect it; caravans yawning, all IT-guys, bespeckled with potted monocles intact, seances-maybe-conjured, woozy from the brow of intention, but it was really just another invention to keep you at your own bay, lapping your writs, wristing and wrenching the games of poor circulation, unsown oats, white scabs dappling the forehead, ready lest of a steady lurk, we all had our, and pews lined the fever with a couple cups more, hucksters unhung.
No comments:
Post a Comment