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Language Yech!                 The power of the prophet, the other a married woman,       brought him ******* Thy silver cab & the owner of the club of the cops died,                                                      my song is the boardwalk of reality the ability to conceive of the Latin sense of the gods;                                      of buried in the bed is enough Magic Paper cut,           the bow of the plastic mirror, six feet high                     w/ the top parts of the area fallen to the Hearts of the caring;                of the origin of the choir of the center of turning around the top of the Christians              [wrote Mary, eye of the machine guns] the glory of the knee to the sight of the cut, still in his sleep,                                         he begins to being on fire, to play w/ the mind indeed,       the natural         to the teeth, monster,                    smoke, life, to change the abstract, for women, is loved, certainly his body,                        having a fire,                                            calling the foods are moved in the town, w/ the waves:                    he shall bring forth the south,                        the garden of the flesh of Einstein's lean;                                         earth the bottom of the Glory be to understand wast cold be broken by a teenage pregnant in the course of acting as a madwoman empty,     the daughter of a lighter there is the sound of Bob & Bettie caught kissing,                            him w/ a fat blond *****     that began to read aloud to him from Keats, the language of Christians                                 overthrown by income's gun; snatching the new temple's corner: Language Yech!                      of the prophecy of the violence of the drawers in the other,                                             a married woman, & brought him; Thy silver cab & the owner of the club                 are the cops the death of my song to me is a board in this matter in the capacity     of the Latin sense of the gods by means of buried in the bed is enough for the Magic Paper cut over the the bow of plastic & glass, the depth of six feet w/ the tip of the part of the floor,            beat him, &                                    of the Heart of thinking about the care that is, & heavenly choir of the center of the turning,                most of the Christians wrote Mary eyes                              & machine guns into the state, each on his knee,                                         he seemed to cut into sleep:                                             begins eager to play mind the natural teeth monster fumes, life to change the abstract,                                                                       women loved, certainly body having a fire calling the food moves the very waves to bring glowing, Einstein's paradise lying on the ground
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
Mary Eyes
Language Yech!                 The power of the prophet, the other a married woman,       brought him ******* Thy silver cab & the owner of the club of the cops died,                                                      my song is the boardwalk of reality the ability to conceive of the Latin sense of the gods;                                      of buried in the bed is enough Magic Paper cut,           the bow of the plastic mirror, six feet high                     w/ the top parts of the area fallen to the Hearts of the caring;                of the origin of the choir of the center of turning around the top of the Christians              [wrote Mary, eye of the machine guns] the glory of the knee to the sight of the cut, still in his sleep,                                         he begins to being on fire, to play w/ the mind indeed,       the natural         to the teeth, monster,                    smoke, life, to change the abstract, for women, is loved, certainly his body,                        having a fire,                                            calling the foods are moved in the town, w/ the waves:                    he shall bring forth the south,                        the garden of the flesh of Einstein's lean;                                         earth the bottom of the Glory be to understand wast cold be broken by a teenage pregnant in the course of acting as a madwoman empty,     the daughter of a lighter there is the sound of Bob & Bettie caught kissing,                            him w/ a fat blond *****     that began to read aloud to him from Keats, the language of Christians                                 overthrown by income's gun; snatching the new temple's corner: Language Yech!                      of the prophecy of the violence of the drawers in the other,                                             a married woman, & brought him; Thy silver cab & the owner of the club                 are the cops the death of my song to me is a board in this matter in the capacity     of the Latin sense of the gods by means of buried in the bed is enough for the Magic Paper cut over the the bow of plastic & glass, the depth of six feet w/ the tip of the part of the floor,            beat him, &                                    of the Heart of thinking about the care that is, & heavenly choir of the center of the turning,                most of the Christians wrote Mary eyes                              & machine guns into the state, each on his knee,                                         he seemed to cut into sleep:                                             begins eager to play mind the natural teeth monster fumes, life to change the abstract,                                                                       women loved, certainly body having a fire calling the food moves the very waves to bring glowing, Einstein's paradise lying on the ground
johnny-noiπ
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... o xo ...
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
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