[a bad bucket]
Uninformed, the stone wall amassed a cool naked dissolvableness, with thought perched lightly on the contrary. To feel them poke among the named all the several rhetoricians there, it widened under the spell of some notion of angelic laughter to tutor the returned in a propriety dependent upon a distance that won't hold water, the better to sit on and peel the skin off you teeth with. Don't let out of the room this phrase, true gigantic ingredients to gain hospitality.
I'm glad to tell you that she can't stand the spotlight, its flitting and lapping in the fans, the child open. Tiptoe. Broke hurry in latitude, seeing the old chance with his gray locks growing sick in pigtails, the rope he'll hang himself badly by and tired straight. Inhumanity working on its birthday, facing the green spur unsheathed, fainting aerial and lagging soft upon the chest. And lastly, where it's unhasting function leans.
Toward the top of her thighs, pressed in the sojourn there. Admirable vowels call it a close shave. The grandson of description. The blow of description you play. What you know. And what you want thus scrawled inside this sign where she meets you and picks a fight to mix her hopes with, and nothing in the way of preparation of speaking at a tilt on either shoulder. The bird quaffs with abandon and billows an ornamental speaking. New flakes of paint lash dignity into relapse.
Masquerade intractable, the overturned singing and the yellow poet repeat minute deeds swinging about like fireproof bodices, cross pollinating despotism with an unrealized pantomime making belief out of action, converting turbocars by parasynthesis into everything will work out all right, the horsemen insists in disguise.
☆