the bullets of every time flew into the breach of spear holding. tempests of radical spent long last, at the sun spot, melted. those who groomed were tide, plant sequence, desperate. these loves of wrong turns (the intention groove) steal. we weaken the life plant, the Gaulish printing stone., the sentence as a structure of crime. and weird mood stretches across basal moon element. crimson burn from aptitude of knowing so resumes a stab of astonishment. this place of our heritage equates hate with a course. Napoleon pushed 600,000 into maps. arrows were seminal direction. a plan smelled musty, looming polity, a tried desert. such bombast clucks proudly, with an on/off switch for tender diaphragm of response. a team researches the next sentence. a find sends avid spoons . the work loses a membrane but gains a paragraph. are you still breached when you steer into a word? clever unction stows onto a vowel, only a shadow (your pronoun as proof). a poem poses a radical form on the simplest method, into the brimming slide of twist, faction, moonbeam, sorrow. another word, like a rush to cactus, surfaces as a tone. a new word, likened to others, sends shiver to survive.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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