Tuesday

rummage and bean

 Mona hears the soldiers in the bank. One tow  its boat. The ________ a copping thing sans rasoir! a line of filth and thought creates stammerzzzzzzzzzzzzz of hooting owls, and paying chickens. Readying for the slaughter at the sabbath of chains. And chairs to run the high ground of white black and gray. This is love. At its middle best intense. Mona shines through.             Pseudonymous as love.