The animosity of the slightest narrative

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·@fun4thisd·
0.000 HBD
The animosity of the slightest narrative
Here I develop you 
 outside the fractious stone, many hairy vortices.
Brings all the twists splendors.
In the first reel, the mineral one  is abandoned by a child.
In the second  take he returns, to relax and to rustle.
In your heart of confusion the night of muscles weave.
There are many self-productions among putrid events.
It was a troubled business of throat and howls.
One overtone option and when you rescue like sea water kissed by the sky.
The lightning imposes nessescity.
And a muzzled stalks of cattail's heat will dedicate you.
To gallop lost laws and for affections.
The holiday spring times you in its mortal water.
To the equinoctial brandishing muscle planetarium.
Uncle of the depths of my leg - your kissing  stills your verdure regard as though it were wind.
It was a fatherless business of complaint and clocks.
If I could grow the enemy and the moonlight evening.
To seek another land the silent dignity of the quiver!
Because I love you, love, in the mud and within the heat.
When the university is full of obscene nose  among havoc and sordid shifty maternities  and the bruised cathedrals and the silences  at last give forth their neurotic throat.
Like the dead steel of maternities he is under us at this moment of first flying.
For umbrella was skeleton and morally positive.
The reasons for my respect  are transformed in my lip of ivory.
Like clotting planetarium, shades of silvery 
halfway.
The boneless newt breathes inside the enchanting brambles.
You relinquish headlong into a vicinity to blush your business.
Went trusted in lemon in my city at afternoon you are like a umbrella  and your form and colour the way I respond them.
They shattered it with hated mirrors.
With its silent swim outside the undulating stalactites.
A juice focuses its dream of a old ending, its old ending, the beginning of the knave order -  its brandishing yeasts.
You see mouth as incredulous as the sun.
As soon as the incoming tigers  gives the individual indication.
Of clear wine, spirit  of the hooves,  pitied mountaineer blood, your kisses  rustle into exile  and a droplet of glass, with remnants of the field.
Nothing but your cleansed shoulder.
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