Yea, the daunting superflous
reading clovers for
mercy and occursus truss.
Any of the subject
almost lossing sybolic
treasure.  Flights of
bumble bees in a
memoir to the unjustified
prattle.  Each
every, to and from
has little to no forthright
luster.  A tremble with out
fever sick.  A hot spell noted
by the chills.  Warm coolaide
at 99 degrees in the shade.  
Probably a groin pull in the
cerebellum to a feminine mystic.
Aponeurisis for a political satire
written in vetos, between the
colors of the rainbow.
Just plain old tired of the
savant, quixic, modern
prancing.  Dedicating a
spell to the matter of quantum
relics.  Like a choke hold
on a full figured transparency.
To much sale for the sailors
that had married the Titanic.  
Probably mustard on pickles
like gypies due lovers.