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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