Merú labor (Poetry)
- Get down boy! - the muscles of his back are creaked to deliver in one hand the pression, showing up that the injuries of the line are nothing. Everybody think perfectly about the darkness, meanwhile the doctor suck the ashes of Angela that she put there in his lungs with the sound of plastic waves and magnetics fiends with tendence of three days in a row. Don't throw chalupas to the fishes please, or dogs of the Ampies Street. Go straight to the nort-east hitting the fence with a pickaxe.
I'll do it some day, when the colors of her eyes turn to red in front of mines. Don't forget the ladies W. C. empty by the voices in specto mount chillin tounge; on every note around before the light. Nobody want to read your inner circle or worse nightmare. Name your kids Carbunclo or Dilcut just for fun and make noises to the ears of the cat. Doing it right.
See you around the corner, over the table and on the road callousness.
The terrarium nearly detailed to Jessica or even better, a sloppy tangerine in a simply red net. -Kikiriki- The sound of the money machine is walking by the steam torrent; wouldn't God surprise us with another microscopic party? Roll the disco glich and let the chanson of Woody vanish a leaf.
Queue the nose to people who carry bodies at the cove.
Through the days and nights the cause of aground all the inebriated is happy fernet chaotic chapel, is a piggery flagellation; those screws are fading in a Mashkera. Try not paint that in your head, Amy Lee, don't forget wash your eyebrows hurdling to the shower, nevertheless the soap don't have green dots. - Like Mrs Doubtfire -.
Enough bidbots have the unreal power to comfort people at some point of their life, like change the ice cream per tuna in a slowly tight druming, just in case of fire, better of your slice with a Gettysburg bread. Know the answer of calculus exam in the seed of a jealous father.
Respect the trigger of an angry woman.
Hey! welcome back Spicoli, will be done by the night, while the guitar make splash at the thought, always the fathom stunted in some bag of shadows can alarm a gist through the valley, but gladsome release her silk on the sea of trees if you leave. See the circle licking gizzards, rushing a material downside nearly forgotten.
Yes, it does, like lido garden in Talemit, setting swamps full of gloves. Is a new romantic country full of a juggler's tale, while the singing hearts puke over the given regulation. Running toes, vicar hoes, temporary joke, smell the storm; almost a year without rain, no more glitzy pain.
My sweetest would be in a hospital because all the sickness there is knowledge to her, not like a funny thing but like pose in a interpretation of the wringer nature to all the evolving in piousness tricky - come on pidgeon do more -. Is the piercing pharmaceutical accusing the assault to Gertrude, how can I save her?
Extricate a fact meanwhile the surgery heed an extention rearranging a fistula, perhaps love is the new movie of Wes Anderson; a single dog or a lemon with a huge production in a stop motion shit - come on dude Gertrude is dying - - the brave river amoung us tell me that she is fine -
-can I continue writing this stymie?-
Uprising in disonant teachers, blame a zealot daesh, not me, right-about turn.
Drink the same water everyday and cut the wings of the parrot once per mont, like every caribbean watchmen inside of a killing windows. Little bulgarian trick burn the flies, your mom cry for that speech of her favorite mandatarian, one by one becoming burglary into a naive defence. Ransom is worthless for the bullet ant and lichen is not for cutting; niece.
Somebody laugh by the night in Madrid and other talks about it, go out and contain the world before that your own mind, nine inches or seven, but always before anything, because the world is our reflect. It's a joke and a paradox, the only sense that i recomend is the Krakatoa yaw, sounds like rage but it's not. - Dude what are you talking about? - - shut up pidgey, this persons are like sheeps, let me do they a favour -. With irrigation the thoughts go to every object and make patterns of resonance. Trust me.
In times like these you learn to drive instrumentally, that's why the road trip join to the area. Any of those fun facts fought with a Squeaky Fromme zap!, and disapears slowly in the wide shut highway, is for complete an hardcore tuning out of the couch. Here is a dance of reference in front of an exhilarate media that convince you that the fatalism deflect ancillary pourpose of anew the silk road.
Yelling troops in a fretwork effacemently in danger, but here now, like a capsule running trough especials fields of sumision. Remember the new day recovery at the ineffectual point of view, loyal and kind. - Ding, ding - is a mutual kestrel in overview to read the owlish numeral. For that reason we don't need learn to use the parvenu parasol.
Playing keyboards and synths in my mind because I don't have one, moping noises with hungry and drawing nurses witting parched subjects, high and above striding tools for percolate love; leaving spoor between a perfect condensation and a xylem listening, perhaps the daughters are gone for ever, and the sons are prisioners, but the bracket of their epiloge are a new story for afterlife.
Not once per century an anchorite write a little brain-drain.
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