That I wanted to kiss him, in the
Long tunnel toilet waiting for my line, they said
But I don't think so. Through with little
Goldfish games. A queue of swans in the dim.
Itch's feather, sewed into poet's pillow, will ensure.
Flower essence tubes crackling like pigs
Salted in their afterlife, tasty in the wound.
When the breeze, bend the breeze. Not
For nothing I brought yes here. Say ja with me.
Caress car crashes less its a pedestrian
Stadt. Who gets angry at the sunshine, swans
Can. Swans, a can and itching them
Remembered me a dream of Ayran
An unsweet yogurt beverage
& some show streamable
& cheating swan glasses on
Scratch that. And you thought fishing
Was boring and dumb. Peel off your hands
Again and again and balm the hind parts.
What umbrage means.
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