Samantha Gilbert, How to recognize: Officers, are on the way. I kept understanding that’s not what that’s meant to mean. and I meant them to come; and I kept expecting the officers to show up flashlights like weapons upon my … Continue reading Samantha Gilbert, How to recognize: Officers, are on the way.
The crinkle foil flo-er theme: the next cited: rum’s theory cited: amazon k [on, upcoming[ tag[s] : food fiction, flower fiction It’s sickly inspired, in the tag of hack: trash; and scent left-over of chocolate; of course it’s turned into … Continue reading The crinkle foil flo-er
there I’m telling you be,er-oh loves to that sow people shirt and dirt them; and there’s almost no way to prevent it; but there is a way to control it though cited: the right thing there’s the grocery store; and … Continue reading there; Happy Birthday, Goura!
for somebody that used to be allergic to eggs, dedicated to j.c. from The New Definition of Retards that’s actually not what egg[s] smell like; it smells more like fresh grass or close to the stench strong of fresh grass; … Continue reading for somebody that used to be allergic to eggs
Chicka Bagel from “The Wave” by \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\goura fotadar\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ the wipers really are waves; even when not used; or need to be used; it’s important to snow. I was thingie about this chicka Were we wore on the bleachers [bleachers are … Continue reading Chicka Bagel
I first met t.k. at a coffee shop; his windy eyes were in a moon hue; of course we’d always talk about the i’s but for a baby it makes sense. He was two yet not born. I was twenty-eight … Continue reading T.K. Story.
based as on the next cited: the witch goura the next one women, a way to keep it safe baseball. like a clock; reminds you of the hit; a hit; the process has ended; it’s time to die. you knever … Continue reading fiction notes for tomorrow; 4717; We Play Pantry; in Stocking Holes; and I cry torn wenches. It’s been busy since the mental hospital, at least.