Simple Theories

So deer run into the dark because dark is a champion. We see the events described by those who grow anger. The anger grows in rations, fed to pour. Something about how selfies execute electrons in election years and further remonstrances. Periods of poor light. And the deer run in the dark without sharing names, only the simplest light glint in their eyes until tomorrow. We can talk about tomorrow as a nation of force. Force is a final subject, left mostly for children and the bleak hold of the rented day. Thank you for listing.

The sentence factor by which we say things a bit builds great momentum to knowing the way down a street where sometimes. Effort along routes that mean so, last time or maybe. The sentence factor supplies everything tho nothing is a lot. The sentence structure wears only, instance and because you have to listen if not care. Drown again, just for show. Each word comes to a conclusion with a tap of meaning implied. Wind in words, as a memory cap. Trucks contain truck, dogs dog. Sentence factor endlessly.

Sometimes they swim. Sometimes the town and all the people tell of swimming. A church or two will open a door for a while and water seems real. They swim when they can, in an hour of need or wish you could tell. No one wants a bird anymore. All the fish are marvelous but the sky opens anything. Surefire rain on the same day as everything, and the people know it. They have been here, and there. Here and there each centre the people. One town is naturally another. People are like that. Today the people wonder swim. They have didactic reasons and a full wavery diction. Tunes pop up like asking more. Sometimes no word is left, only the floating thing on the water, thing. You could hold the day open, or closed. The people will try any island.

Please autumn with its cool child types. A day in rain, or placed simply in the water. The river rushes in a patter. This much we know. Like words, something addresses the moment. Words become practical markings in the reason of roads and every night. All stars quicken for the one last touch. A sentence lives association, all we are trying to say. BTW, god shares your concern.

A letter in the water near the tree in the way that words go orange on a scale of one to ten. No one in the ocean but a blue cast of owning all. People are parking lots, and the lines in their poems look like strip malls. An advisory from the coast goes to the yellow extent, but green is an awful lot. These aren't poems as people mean. These are simply reports of varying degrees, all of which look like rains. Rain is so purple on plump cold days, more red by simmering ones. We have a lot to share in a message sort of way.

in exactly clocklike sentences, frantic rampart situations, and oh a rose includes a dying bee, he says the thing that went well with local understanding according to the latest. And then the sentence becomes a sort of communication, in delible packets deliberately made for forming. The exact sound of when Marco agrees to agree with a machine in his nutclamp shoves more moon thru space with exact word combination saying something at this point, repartee. And look at how big small can be when you add fluster to the made yesterday machine. The machine thinks so, tho so as a vantage is a various concern. Marco your pants are showing.

Lay on the sand like dead refugee child. Tap magic. Give my dad a job cuz he needs one. Good times bad times. Un poca de gracias.