Thursday, May 20, 2010

the night is




The night is a dog that harkening rambles around....like your beauty. ...barring all trespassers from. getting in. the door. its the way it clambers to its feet. foothold to the golden gate praying for its marrying son|Since Jill marries Mona its a shivaree all week, they're bundles of goodies godly things tucked in wraps and paper candles! up the stairs. lining the staircase are hidden and obscure faucets tinkering the pulling bells of fate!. these habitués of cafes are not mindful of love's domestic
bliss just yet but their sentence is strength and long living the concentration of its pluses. they've every extension of remaining ensemble totheir agencement of love. and its box tool. What queries and musters they are blasted by the flapping of their fornicating.

O babies!
O fultide of swinging rims!

Conation and pronunciation and the huffapuff complete! No abstract drawing of addle headed pates


No one uncovers baksheesh where they lodge. But if pudginess and piddling nerves are their never never karma they cant wait or hope to commence. The immense riptide of their bloom.