To feel good without incorporated tyranny, we must see blue and red as alternatives to the same destiny. Evicted from paradise, littered with say-cheese demise ensnaring three blind mice eaten alive by snake-eyed vice. Carrey the tops of mountains in the humor of wellsprings and fountains, we engage a menagerie of egos lilting of an etiolated pragmatic concern. But know that no virtual reality can supplant the reality that does truly exist, or at least our time is too infernal and purblind to resist. Ringmaster Barnum, how much horticulture is needed for assured superstardom, how many cloisters must we evacuate from the incendiary plumes of a metaphorical Harlem. I scurry down the aisles, bemused by shimmering tiles and the beguiled audiences who see much in my limitation but doubt little about my debited elation.
Should I move to a state by first or last name, or is the final appellation worthy of much more lasting fame. To antagonize the willful and frenetic pace, a prodrome of lasting but memorialized disgrace.
Larks that abound because prescience and PUGET sound, that brown has become the new orange which in turn prowls as a concealed swarthy black. Therefore a cork to every exuberance and a triumphant torch for every sorrow lives onward in collective time. The zeal of cobblestone tolerance arrayed in fashionable hues masquerading as crimson secrecy, elevates the tide of man but some boats leak in their foundations.
0 kommentar(er)
