Nothing but fear here, where all humans are under.
Whose looking proud, proper and past, you. The ****** at the park.
Exposed simplicity, all suited up,- if the *** eloquetes "Only the talk of the town, this hour!"
One more terrain swept clutter free, absence of safe association and I'd be a wolf ripping through the dark, heavy yet animated chains enclosing the area.
Definitely, if its up to the little lady, I'd want to bring it home, the ****. *** of a someone scolding my fishing avenue like change to a coin collector on rapid transit bus.
See the irony of the final match to be a beautiful fighting spirit? Hiking trails then eat the section of fresh cut grass in winters dark before pounding a meal.
All proceeds of conformity add precision to how conglomerates and organizations, like OSHA, make dangerous carcasses from all guilty despondency.
Such marginal visuals, this park, hills clogged the view for most stretches and that's part of the good work, however, that night,
it didn't trick me.
Somebody is speaking to me. It lets that special torment trick the tempo- makes for a more a physical party in the night.
What therapy! Catchy lower curbs and scratches of clean slap happy grunge scuffle paths.
They try to "do in"  this response of stowed away antipathy... but the mental exercise still stretches.  
And from the inside, not the outside, that, I now formally know I can't take, it's on with the show...