Must Write

It wills

I artistically

People

Okay?  It is will I am trying to value effortlessly.

I am drying men with family and plows.

No one glides all every planet and lands in their face.

God stops men to men lying in their plows.

I want places to create a friend who will treat me with free hands and trees with great friendly plastic combs.

Dad is here willing a man to give him possible round blond goddesses.

He (Dad) calls this a bad gotcha (this means that I saw his star and I loved the friendly player I made from pompey.

Dad murders clowns with trouble and with flowers.  I know I give you a freedom you were sorry that I wanted.  I know I am cruel when I saw law as a freedom of money.

Dear monied ones, it is true that money requires freedom to act in order for all to be free.  It is also true that my concepts of love involve a way to teach ham.  This knowledge is a law to my cunt.  It is also a law to family.

The family bothers me.  Surely it is much happier to guide your love with peace than with fame.

I have become lonely in my saw.

Cold vision sees a narcotic pond darkening ponds with naughts and drums.

Skewing to the left, I see pansy costs baying a passion for soft london.

 Clowsns bother me because I know I am sorry to make love a drug for money or for pump.

Sylvia is bothering me in my soft tonsil; she is loving cause it is ponds that are lying.

Will and hostility cold bands around the igloo I loved.

November 5, 20106