Thursday, December 24, 2009

come along the

Watch time she's waited enough. the guard wont come. her mouth's filledwith it you know that book tasted like shit waxed with Polish onions. she's not a becoming shes a blockhead pickled with dust. An elevator worker in her spare time she's got minions coming for her. A jerk off artist to her left and to her right the god of fortune and fastimes. she's rented the cursed trail of credit. Not the moxy of the Grundrisse but the death of OGods and their patterns. Patens to the fusty rock road a cut ciborium to the riant goddess of her lap. This way two love in place of one.