northify where none would reach. I'm saying so.
valerian would nurse a prompt reply (where none would teach).
sandusky is not hollow,
nor are you when flickering lute's former strings.
ringtones dose me off the number forty-three.
are these your scissors?
who is bladed free enough to ratchet up the hopscotch stairs?
if ever there were worthiness it's not with thee.
I french pastry three new meretricious hairdos
where a reasoned kiss-free eminence
would beeline down the highway calm as rice (springing eternal).
rest in piecemeal lumber.
peaceable still shares go soft.
though cornices leave bitter melodies.
I trash the hurt.
some day will distend such filaments of thee.
if ever shackled, potions might seem smarmed for young.
be that as it magistrate, the combout will be close to fun.