Thursday, June 5, 2014

Slushy Axe

Just when I'm up high a lightning cloud strikes. Irking chaos to pathologically fight me as I pyche seed. That which is my being and I represent with pride. That which are my actions need a key to address sides of the tempura mental actuality existing.

Mixing ology with fizzy gonna get artistic partic ulates, all over the couch with bubonic neurosis its Ebonics to tell if division aint gonna axe as it's being atrocious. Felt a wave of exhaustion floating over my focus. I turn event into eventual eventually. I have the pretense to index that which is me.

Some people axe and if they do they get the answer i guess. And if the answer is wrong then use a wiki to test, the answer answering right, like them brothers whose flight did break the records that were expected to be reckoned with, even if, someone somewhere is getting choked by backwards necklaces es is us is is is us is esss.

Huhhh ensure you inhale as breaths taken in from inside chests getting Air. Ee-oh-la. space around the space that's there, exposhe-ahh. Mass media hike up to tell the quiff about the angel hair pasta in butter beard yeah that's stiff. You got the foster bundt the day you lent, the thick you bent, the moeny you spent. Never mind you with that lent.

You got  that lint in yo pocket I sold you, I'm gonna need it back, I got a sweater that's better than any thing that you stack, next to, up top of, inside of, without. The places you take to and things that been doing with, now do without.




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