Blissfully blissfully unconscious the sigma attaches the ray of her prize the indefinite article tampered with by her love hand lorn to its fairest wheel.

L'histoire de ma grande nevrose


___________________________ Tune that rhyme lovers, your colours are washed with sky. ~

Think of the traitors of lover skinny titfinked barearsed and ragged out in the twine of the dirty gown. Acheap skirt onthe apocoaylpse howdedah~ and tawdry jobs barefooted on the floors wax of factories.

___________________ Mona! Fanny calls they're not traitors my dear! mere tricksters hucksters swindlers on the bidding of bullshite.
____________________Wranglers on the arsewipe of tomorrow ~