Monday, February 15, 2010

fall and whoop

If she's wrapped in twine she's lovable as. a Rare. Fish finding her fine fin. In this way her hair 's fine spun . As love's sweet heart and not the succubus of pain's hoary witch. Is it liver? O winner of love's glance at the far-off. Over the keel washed by the trawling back wave we pushed that good shore busting our chops getting home singing the silver privets and the panaceas of Knight. Riding the good clop clop along the twisted lanes of old ... yes, the boaards hanging and the boa constrictors right there. She could see the old thing... calf like in its weight the nervous murder in its eyes... blaming the snake for the murders of a dying codfish, a dead god's ass blinked out on the





The god's incestous dead wish. Cocked the one thing she loved, took him away punishing him from the things that mattered to a man... the Moon raved its tearing.









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