Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Trying to Save the Television

When you are with me, rains are pencils, and that’s didactic. Tornados mark classes. We arrange the flexing toward alone yet quake of the certain lost measure. It’s a mountain, that stepway large and holding sky ideas. We are carried centers, clusters, cooling matter in the forest throng. There will be a day, because all days have that measure. No one consumes the rational path but bends and wiggles mild and proper expulsion from the card of garden. Names made terrific for the crusty season, spent on tours thru clutter, spoke, and rumour idol. This is the bond, tho more arises, skies arise, the tornado seems like Harvey, the rabbit of Jimmy Stewart. Hello, and smackerel, this chance of time in year. We were ready for this. We ride to ready this.

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