Thursday

Tiny Creature

The goddes walked
_____________________________MOna never called it a goddess. But a thing a machine worn with its screen existence. A cooking pot for tinsel and rage! pouring the threads and grinders to the spare portion left over. Words with a taste in them and laughter's crumble.
She talked she sucked move like a postilion piston of love.

Deshabille and megrim her love cock mouth sucked him dry. as a boot. then its burnt over the edge of the asp mouth. Or is that an orifice the rock dry cant in the place of book. and the satyr

___________________Your body is sleeping not bragging. She, on the other hand, boasted of her beauty on that bus-ride . The other day in the rain crisped window ... riant rainbow rising...


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Her mouth's dry as a tunnel. That there's baking goods for the eternal blues incarnate and the something other and other. Not so nice once you come to think about it. And the dead bat and the wide awake tunnel! she's borne there all her savage love and its impulse to create. Obssession and t he implosion of the body on fire glided by the instinct to repair and cry. Cry? O tears poured as lave does. Pissed off by a volcanoe.