Oft hit S

What little there was to share, we fell asleep to. Days were long, as long as a Norseman's beard, and shortened as well, like a crew cut Jim, on his first day to fishing class about assism and gleaningship apprentice-hnyorts, an onomatopoeic bricklayer choral
arrangement of caw-bird noises and clacks (ensuing). I ate a fuck, having back a few rhetorical circle pie eyes, and wont, nay, not to cough much, but for a furtive fear of endearing marks, furniture-sized and shallow bite impressions that weren't in her or his shade of hose or gravy, either way, troughs of wimp left before there weren't raver pants and shiny ear gigglerati to expound upon little spites, snippets of teak that tykes and frankly, virgo-esque, essays or ports, shipping nooses, moo's and poops, a sigh to cinder sand and dusting greyly will tell you about, when they weren't sixteen or seven, and daddy was over at the card game while brother S did the handy hand puppet penises of a kind only lawsuits could inscribe descriptions and formal art trainings/meanings/into, via hotel leers, wet zippers, and vacations with the fingers. I lie, but only in regular diesels, autoeroticorrected into a shelving system that smelled of ponds and winced the last green before December. Indeed, the buses would arrive, spilling out a verdant tongue of commuter traffic and the riffs that artists would wonder about, were if they able workers and compliant toads. When you don't even comprehend this morning, there's no need to cut your dreads. Shitty people will retain their issues about everyone, venting aspic and importance when it comes to anything or one but themselves. Yo. A. He's the capital H, and socks couldn't be good for log, especially alders, tough as nails, and hardly warm enough to tech the fiber.


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