There was an alphabet but the n-word took it away. The other words went. Fire filled a room full of Republicans or andirons. The alphabet merely stood stringent in reference to the call for more idioms that alert a reader to more variance in autonomy. The ending of a sentence demands another sentence, or certitude of the statement's cessation. Words cease in their provocation, unless someone thinks. Thinking endorses the alphabet and lets loose. Words come along.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
One begins to think one sentence fails enough. If the sentence showed all excellence would its plume spread to the fanciest idea and stay for the idea, for the water in the bay? It becomes a dream of a vast carnival near the high school, and someone speaks of Karl Marx. He wasn't left behind, nor the many others in their sentimental claim in favour of underwear. The sky remains blue, considered by the best experts of blue.
The Passion of Class Act Suit places in pods for the listening spheres the Editors who reside in Heaven.