Friday, March 11, 2011

text || Edward Nichols

Hot as fire one minute,working on a hack line up in the Ivory Tower, someone was definately, parlour games.
Dr.Dent- I don' believe in chills
What are you talking about
Well,it's all a mirage,anway
Pocketing the pattering,I'd make you

I don't give a damned what we had running.
He was thumbing it anyway.

Topsy-Turvy Crustaceans meddled with the brother,and,eris
These are the spawn , a soap bubble breeze; our culture and our knowledge must be preserved,Art ,Literature andMusic,...........An automatic repeating,.......
Sophisticated capacities with strange beings,.....A sound; a pure deep Organ tone,floated in space around us,.....yes,......that one pure tone,in and of itself was indeed music, floating in the timeless nothingness of ultraspam, like in charming idiot,... there was no doubt in my mind, she had Tennessee Burbon hoarded. Kruise- The opening of the door. Dr. Dent- shall we Kruise through Kruise- AL! Ha- you are very witty-priceless-

The camera drew a Shadow Print at the fifth grace The groom arrived replete in Golden Skeletal Form replete with sparkling grimace.

Dr. Dent- Nothing but a fatalistic beauty from the gems of his boso, a heartfelt letter sent on the grammatical lines of flourishing gold dust, a good omen for us all, a order taht the Kingdom is in order.

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