Tuesday, March 09, 2010

does she

 Tumble along Mona . No one hears it anylonger. Not really ever did the soothsayer and talkers. The half bands and balding weed. Nor the dust of balls and storm.

Blue breasted orphan in this unconscious couscou I've filtered all your red awnings ... preparing for the happy moment of the Revolt... in the castle the witching boards are hot to go and she's a pushover herself so they're flanked by guards and rented by mummies... as for oedipal doggy walkers...we're hunting down pit-bulls rottweilers... and other vengeance returned dog bastards... shovel and hammer in hand... Mona's skirt's highheaped with love's made stand.. custard and double kissing lover to love kiss sucklipped




 What about German shepherds daddy? Oedipus go to ... sleep....