Sunday, July 3, 2016

A Crowded Chicken Wing Festival

likely how heaven, with names attached, a quotient for human, and it is july, proud to be, like a laser wants more, like a taser says more, apparent lily in a fairly certain field.

once a poem in a dream, albeit language goes for waves, in approximate reunion, circles called antelopes, currently, they were playing.

the animal of hunger exercises flashes and conveyance, long language and about time forget about after time.

american like factory for data, it’s a strange courage / you give me...

No comments: