bhuasmi
by grimbeau
Daft as a thrush in song, peppered by turtle dove shot, endangered specious snipers go to pot seen nobody but your familiars since the shodding excursion. No discourse on the telling bone except to the pharmakon one egg owed to the corner shop. Sir Noot ate all the crusty bread. Mettoys crude long vehicles jacknifing in your head as i breathe i grows rich transporting ancient coins over the funicular isthmus on the tough bodies of the cattle of Bashan