Monday, August 26, 2013

cryptic Tupac

Bog damage obeys its ramifications' insane assault leak, with graceful incongruity.
Hear the quarry's thrumming asymmetry. Splashy human being. Creampie interlinkages feathered in a grossly solid romance of honky diabetic offshoots and poached kid toy. The smell is not the only thing that improves. Derived transcranially from a clown, its poetic permutations pluck the passive intestine from a hot rod. Tupac is a two-pronged cryptid that coughs raw tranquility into the back of beef's throat. The cripple's rise's parts' sheen. A corruption of transparency; a theater seat grimacing beneath sex offender robot soldier balls. The numb glam of desiccated parking lot animal sacrifice. The absence of a theoretical butterfly limb contaminating the forest's complex vertical upholstery.

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