Wednesday, June 09, 2010

run tin

Run tin and mustard oscitant in the morning sun over the field. Something of these line heading west. Come along your folly, tramping in the lane, before the

sexy beloved object! Not of art but raw lust! Instinct ganging up! Oscilloscope of your legs and measure of your peat! So Jill's ganglion self. Ropery in the sand band. Came in the week. Call~an~to her faint winding bawdry... She had it congress with the wicked tongue of ...medieval medical day. And roamed the tipsy sand.Chipboard and the usual daily droll. And fallacy flap sand,

rummage to the caretakers of sick self.

Pelf and south the taken night and given day.