Monday, November 14, 2016

Dark Pants Mean Dark Times

You have to be period the light period in your own sentence

Sunday, November 13, 2016

After Shocking the Saints

The tribal long grasses of firm autumn pre-describe an initial point. Valid in most states, formless in function, they prepare the user for the diversity of offense. Winter bears no questions, violet iceberg. Today starts the endless aptitude test with variant rugs on the cursive floor. This is becoming language, tho we regard ourselves as sane. Accept the natural loss of poised sentences, words can’t employ meaning in this need. Words have only dental notes of identity, cooperating justly with the affluently dead ideas on which they were based. We can elect all we want. A tribe still needs a blank page whereby actual constructs of logical impetus tell lizard the time of day. This time of day is lame.

Oprah or Tom Hanks

Deleted particles still sort.

The latent immersion in the effort to consort lives fully rendered.

Someone made a sentence.

These days and what we relieve in worth find strong notes of distraction in blending in.

Brief in.

We believe in the people that we believe in people.