Monday, June 13, 2016

my numbers not as hot as summers but sky rockets I can knock them like a dropped mop splat and split straight up through the ozone, it's all alike a whirl pool blanket folds that follow into an plague of digital like pixels vibrations that's simple that's basic not a whirlpool physical law it spells like a scheme it is all like I love you so attachment by a witch to her cauldron, stirring the music she seems.



I mean that.
And by and by and by, a choice everywhere. To watch it go round. A flower, a span, of beams and subjective topical anniversaries honest and before any fake and dying language. Another place we love that we relied on the steps into the darkness, the end is reason. We pray "the end is reason" as time isn't stopping for no man with no peach with remarkable to some degree as that perspective is immeasurable because these are tools we use and courageously wear now for a stretch to whispering to blooming plants, what do you say to them? If they could speak back we say to enlighten where we're already.
I've brought you into an inferior corner square to dancing heels flick and hundreds and pigeons too rule this move it all says, now another, more than you know.



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