A sword forged in oral copulation is different. For the explicit purpose of obsession, Can't Stop.... Watching. Only when he drinks alcohol is Scooby Doo normal.... another pissed-off whispering, nipple fat sloped under the microscope, for it's time to nurse himself allergic to the actual thing.... Ok, if a haunted Arby's seals the correlation between monochrome image and horror as sanctuary, the witch may cut ROLL-B fishing line, to interpret AGE of PUNK; through aluminum foil Wario punches hair; SENSATION appears “difficult” by the time yoga turns to wandering. They die: this was the 3rd of 3 board games, January 10, 2018 (Friday) live information added; demonstrable hope spreading (Allergy bent cotton, Gore deck!) portable nutcracker VooDoo painlessly through some new kind of buzz, but obviously real, very tough – ceding tennis ground with thoughts and hunger, loitering in the background (Garfield is everything folks say he is), self-destructed: “I love you Mammon!” wrecked the room all day long...own maudlin appetite for still life noticed with a metallic “weee” of Klimt screaming, a Story (to obtain toxic “wtf pop art, please?”) dug deep into my heart, insane for the ugly, unopened cesspool of music, side by side like shells. Once a celebrity chef, Hegel's characterization for the special effects of biceps (thoughts of wasted wellbeing, wasted time of the contributor of all pleasure-noises) decorated the Titanic transcendental (understands the voice of the douchebro himself), and now of the war criminal vanguard of “washed up”, a motherfucker – through such a gig (Novermber 24, Friday, maelstrom of flying golf balls), the system evolves shaking, against occluded nose of the poultrygeist passing damp in front of the moon.... door to door, gone with the wind, whoops. For consecutive use as telephone, hit head on the first try, so corny, necromancer himself (noticed dog, probably not her favorite though similar) lick pot all the way through; ducks fuck with facts, similitude pickled wholly by chance like the clones resuscitated by Orson Welles – gap of the demon counterpart fanned coma, the deepest time of night buttered everything dead. So in alphabetical order (e.g. ABBA – a not yet regretted rhyme) fat mountains sprinkled with the anthrax of Saddam surface – bloggers hang on, like carp (panic attacks subverting an aggressive cosmic rattle), and the inorganic stereophonic brie of sunrise modulating in tatters over arrows falling down to the flat earth... additional items and notices, also twists of absolute terror will be added to the cephalopod's lip field.