Anything,
basically, growing on one's head
can
channel a bias for an attractive hat.
The
seat of Magneto's powers is in this – so not just
primarily
in greasy moth hairs.
With
a box cutter, the prophet morphs his gown into
a
permanent, homy crawl space. His existence seems
to
expand, and it is with this expansion that he swaddles
one
corn dog after another.
Why?
Why waste such a gift?
Follow
Google Street View's loud, clunking cement mixers
on
your PC. To unwrap the earth's crusts, they needn't travel
underground,
thanks to a little trick: the GSV cameras are
placed
inside the crusty drums, set at 1 revolution per minute.
Anal
bleaching is lonelier. The Aztecs liked to lift their dirt
into
the air – they did not keep their stratosphere murky
with
optical illusions. Pork responds wheezily to handjobs.
You
can hear boogers in a BB gun slide like ferrous marshmallows,
from
side to side.
The
princess's handmaidens had forgotten her in a
stack
of mattresses. She couldn't call for help because
interaction
with them in the context of a cube
was
not appropriate. I think now the princess looks mild.
The
Walking Dead are coming for you because they got tired of
constantly
being emotional. I can tell that the moments
between
parking lots, when they are permitted to get out
and
stretch their limbs, are frustrating to all those crammed
into
the Volkswagen. What Tetris has taught us is that
unifying,
and melting, and swirling together – and eating
each
other – make for sparser entities and/or parts.
Hence
the eternal hunger.
No comments:
Post a Comment