Marvellous maybes… maybe, as well as utterly envy-laden children carrying fists for fingers and denting the imaginations of
Tragedy-stricken alsoCANS. They prompt themselves on and go again – at causing the aching of the tenth century. She’s rewriting all the rules and regularly taking
Aforesaid bEaTbAcK fists to the full shape of her fledgling face. Disgraceful how we’ve stood back now and tended to our very own understandings as she
Entices back together — “all of their peripheral eyes, on the price of the prize and picking a brand new manner to
Play games with yet again – THE STATE OF THE SHAPE OF HER RESURRECTED FACE.” When we have all the time of mind and about ten MILLION more tantalised years to fall FAST asleep and FEAR THE REAPER. End of it all and she’s being
Quite a tad-big-bit over-the-top — “insatiable as well as standing within each of their UTTER-OWN chosen spectrums
While drumming to her own beat ————— to meet herself UNEQUIVOCALLY in the middle… .” Of where negligent Neanderthals make no noise with their
Nose to the grindstone and their perfect bodies pARTicularly prone
AS ANYBODY ELSE can really be = to steal the gaze of the age-old century.
These woundUP, whippersnapper penitentiaries, “plEASE!!” Let. Us. Chaotically. See. All of WE
