I cranked up the radio
as soon as the plumage
of algae deflated your hair.
Your reputation is displeasured
by the ornate shadow castings
off of ceiling fans with eyelashes.
Yes, I know I make you mad.
We are the love that never breaks.
All the tears are representational formats
of the emancipated earthquakes of the bed.
Stone conjunctivitis activity
abnormalities terminal of windmills
adding capture ridden fifth seasons
fundamental wonder police
unoriginal origami rag time mamas.
This time we spilled the tank
and spoiled the fruits at half baked
half mast whatever halfling takes the cake.
Based upon your uterine cancer,
the doctor determined to have you undermined
in the last minute round of poker.
The prejudice parade is smoking tuna.
Eat thy sandwich in a wind tunnel.
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