Thursday, June 21, 2012

text || Edward Nichols


I watched myself laying on the floor,up on the sentence particularly. Words upon a spinning wheel and forecast Orgone weapons are laying in waiting for the -some screwed up straight in the symphpnic complexability of Stravinskys the Rites of Spring.A space odssey contains key ingredients for making burst out into a maple shape watch the telephone beat.Anacondas swithed the light bulb in scorpios head.Blue Krishna stands for the metal field. I was matching the  play - I accidently blew up the whole principle. Forward surges the twinge of fortitude flies the octagon pushing the Flanger reason for  rolling like a rock.The bored flow of the enormity of the metallic vehicle.From the front thediadem had gotten through the eye of a needle-a camel by losing weight.The top of Dr. Dents health the coursing river ran side by side by Krishnu.So as the sentiment expanded into the thumb jug flew over her head in a justified change perplexed neophyte adamated the animated chocolate Bishop.The station platform,his bullets,sagged to the steps and all the people sang,even Elizabeth Tea was there , with her giant ha that covered her from the top of her head down to her feet

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