Doily

M
A
B
O
R
L
I
F
O

P
A
M
N
T
R
L
I
S
F
O

Gloppis.

S
T
A
N
F
OP
Piss

Gland

Goy

I sick

Rosey

Dots, Love, Pussy, Cruel.

D
E
F
P
A
L
N
O
F
O
R
A
C

A cadillac tries it is work.

Soiling, Toiling, Boiling, Coiling

Ways Words Treat Donseca.

The roses soft planet soft glimmering.  Pussy is a nerd dreaming costly softly is a moose softly climbing where drums stop thinking where it is tommy calling words safely glans pain tops grain.  Stink words he are bland softly calling my crank stinks of bombs and family dries harsh targets softly take pain possibly is you.

Ignorant and opinionated

A fun
Place

Calls
Dean

Moose.

Twitter. 

Boo.

A way I love be I am I am Peace a worker flowers.

Chelsea Goodwin is a moose.  Be Be World.  I love was here.

I love her boo.  (As a land flaming calling; it is back to racism:  it's hate in my sickness, the anger I have bothers me.)

I love you claying trying:  What is a familiar trial?  Why you belong where you are.

Bisexuals dance with their mind.  It is flowers naked rude flowers softly being soft and loving part of life.

I said to you to be loving.  I am a bird troubled.  I'm soft.  Part of it is randy words.   Lots of boosting causes is a language of blondes.  Sorry but I am language below belief as suffering.

Be rat fat pat.

I like Hester, who is both a friend to me (internal to my mind, a sort of persona fragment) and an excellently conceived figure in A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving.

Land borrows I liked
rafts.  A lake.  Planes.  Words.  Teachers.  Peace.  A latch.  Booboo.

Irritating whales.  Coldly I am h
ut.
Twins lead angles drain.

I shared butches and it was a fake.

Lies call a laestrogen.  Shit.  I don't word.

Guys.  This is writing.  This is not writing.

Queer hoyden platane whale craft is a bink of hope:  chaos ago were high on bride thinking class.

Twit (booboo) needed life.

I loved it.

Parsley wank a hut flaming rain darts I hated noanger noah land.

Am I cold?

I seek happiness.

I care about myself.

I almost died trying to care for others.

What is a top?  What is alingering word?

Cloud over life paper angst.  Clamming ways sail deaf language cool poum.

George Orwell died I lied it is plink and laughter polling whales.

Change borrows high trials sorry parsha.

My brother dies or is not a nnihilated and beautiful.

Tell I got words where I am.  Be long as day and face you :  You call male trails a wince.

Put  it alive and I I hate doling clink with a stranger pope I rose it is not death darkness as a whale.  Cash being bob.  Quit. 

The Rigor of the Pea

You are here.  Many sorrowful answers are words that are stopped.
Clown.

You are body.  Clown is star of friendship.  Body got me and I am words.

Silliness Sylvia grew her family and I am her brain chalking the thoughts I have on the flag.

Souters.  Dolly Calls me and I draw you.  Here is my drum: clothes star their lives.  Suck.

Belong.  Where are you?  I am you.  This is a reading available to the public that wishes
Communication to listen to life..

I have brought planes and money to allow you to belong here, where bodies safely dry under a flowering world.

Please help me feel like you. I wish you were clowns.

Screaming Friends Itch Ago (Some time).

I am screaming.  I am wondering why I am screaming.  I am screaming at you to release a bent work(er).
 Will my name.  You are writing me.  Why do you ask for a pig?

Dreams softly are birds as I am free to affirm war as a pig.  Don the stars with your brains.  It is beautiful where I am.  Tolstoy boned it up with his beautiful spouse, starting with the year 18__.  Killing a beautiful woman is tested by its own junkie.  I screwed a junkie with no blame for her.  She made me a knight flower -- gold tossed in a friend's drink.

Why do you flame when I am screaming about your nights, which render and are rendered blown by fleas.  Skill and trusting in my fecal drastic holeness parties itself for a larger winter.

Gay night is a passage I freed my life to be flow and not her personality (which is peaceful as a bird, cold as a frank troll -- is there a pagan in my wort?)  Clause One pokes itself into my rested enki.  War is told to fail and therefore all belongs to the freedom of my brain.

Sickness is a megalomania of laughter not praise.

Quit this.  The scream altered beer and I am a flame for my stash.

Intent

I skipped (troubles).
Climbing is here at you.

Quarrying it here (please here) is here.

Oil socks rolls I had your drama.

Skill collapses in the instant of composition--
A thought of planes with no lace or wit (dies).

Change calls me a rake for my slandering flower
A dais rosen/kavalier parts my mind cautiously

For a breath I do not approve.

Will you breathe me as I breathed others?

A passion of nightlong tender synchronization of
respiring bodies -- three to the bed.

Clowns.  Are these cranes of good luck my mind in brief?

Destiny calls for me, and I am pained awfully badly cashing in
With no dress to free my handsome life.

Fuss is the strangled death throe wise ass stark as a flute.

Your place was here, pinned to thinkings tried and glued.

A will to myself dropped clothes clean me as clotted grime falls to the wooden place.
We are here.