Wednesday, April 07, 2010

cheeky slop

barren disguises, melting the richness of energy towards the north-north-west. I like to; but only when the summer sun sings the night song like a romantic dinner entertained by a mediocre but comical violinist. Chilean calamity being what it is, she rendered the uprightness pink. Block your eyes, block your eyes!



If enough people all in a row roll their bowling ball with a skilled lack of coordination.

2 comments:

Rita said...

I found that strangely poetic...

ghost said...

and now i want to go bowling.