Yes, a dream of big teeth in house-sized anxiety space. A time in the misty prevailing when cool monster without simpering mellow feathering determined the impact of physical luscious fear. The specimen creates the maximal thunder king sound with ultra lizard shadows that meet you at political nervy night. Did Rex trundle on the outpost land like human antipathy, or race earth-low with lizard slink into the mindless ultimatum of acme predation. It’s all great. There were signs of presidents, rooted in televised commerce, who on two feet, almost, stood. You can settle this with the flash of your vote. A cannonade of hind legs matched with adjudicated forelegs: see the matchstick to irrelevant weakness. The space between your charming monster America and the bleeding standard churn smells like prey.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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