Wednesday, December 30, 2009

open your wheel

Okay husting s... along your boardwalk its the figures not symbols which count... O countess your .. fair cutting wounds make better sense now that you are alone. What seperation forces your sigh? Is it the cunning of morals backs your paste? and disgust fans its teeth.. disgust yes shame disgust . .. you dig around with whores.. street worker... shes the blameless duchess of backed up beds..a ass giving out drops by the window and this bacchanalia's come to its end... blanket quill and bare feet|

Soon you'll undo the mastubating tale of Franny. Come to her southern .

No, come to her mouth.