12 April 2009

Gregarious Apocryphal

My gravy's graveled n gritty Woodsworth nothin' piled up.
Pine coned shaped penetrations lke a timecode hidden under mattresses sheet w/,

cepia seeped dropped drips of waning drithel.

   This is a drought big enough to fill those cavernouseyes (still bl).

But-

When I file through those fostered fidget moments of reminisce,
there's rly no other way it could possibly be (unfortunately).

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