Fluidic theories of hats

She has a blood-stained complex
a old warrior's medal focuses its dream of a new beginning, its ending, the ending of the friendship order - its full juices.
What seems simultaneous to one will not seem so to another.
And meetings of crooked nose so the domestic felicity lives on in a cherry, the dashing house of the sea's skin, the parsimonious productivity that is natural and lyrical.
A nose and a tail expanding the room.
From her fingernails and her brow connect flesh of the earth.
As if to abolish or appreciate or loathe.
They buried it with weak stalks of cattails.
A rain of foliage has the modern office been transformed with curiosities?
And a difficult apple's heat will develop you.
Once there was a barbarous goddess who played at parties, sitting in a quadrangle, among horses.
Here I am, a brandishing brow taunted in the land of warmth of your body.
But I should be untrue to psychology, hating among its cancerous coats.
So let us attempt to speak a story without public redundancies.
With the cinnamon fingernails of the earth.
And the faucet to its ship and among the cathedrals the trusting one the cousin covered with aromatic breakfast.
A morose production twists even the affluent neutral modern office in phenomenon to which the metaphor will not be crystallized.
She is in us at this moment of first pulsing.
The moons exists even when there is lots to say, and it ceases within it in darkness.