are they

are they aether? arterial game over the looking of the siege
near its dearest opinion of desire flow backup over the recording surface
cares a face carefree in the cafe, she hold banter not further
from where Prof. Jill hold forth. She hold forth her heeled skit
to his heading away flight. come on! she wants to give him
logic of lovers for xmas morning with rimbaud gathering his bodies a thousand sexing hour to his love lung wheeze hoah wheeze hoah wheeze hoah _ or a blood vein cutting the simple fare of its weight, not boldened by creek like wavering or borrowed blinks of thought. she pares a knife
to his shaping franny want to fuck him badly as handing a mille plateaux to his flour bed,
alone solitudes. mother to his mere mountain caboose to his tom thumb tilting his updside

over going of nave she saw his heel. like any clean simile he ferries the cute flame of its poor
body to his only only only malarkey.


she has found the welfare goddess in his eyes.