Monday, February 08, 2010

Sure it was

________________Sure it was Frany. Rattling the cup behind the other taking the god space of her divine buggery galoo and her achoochewchoo! the hemmed hum and ruff lip in American and showpiece gal. Not by the historial penchant yet rocking its loud debris. In other sure to say it was the littering led her gospel and the bad will versed the stringbean lace. Gripped by the incrediblized lover's delay she's hoarded that route her becoming Paris, and she was a city there, a light, a tornado borne for her burning sues. And the rapacious grappling the sense of it coming, not mentioned yet merely hinted the free of her touch __
words in their crowd via Fanny --

true love's cone ~