the two rescapees

are there, safelly dried from you. Yours is there, it is, the fine line sawed to X and from K to l, M to z, the millipede of time fires all the way Love does to my round circular mark over time as you.............feel. The Arular rulership, the Roulatabille farces I exise by the sharp scissor cut to the gorgeous show. I killed an animal but a serious exstasy is there instead, now Judges, make me a friend. Let, it be my name. In the river the bones of Overland, in the sea the way it used to be so large at sea that it way may well make a compact planet. There maybe, here no more boy, ther thread is lore now and the legend wide awake on the sofa, with the kepi and your opium banister, the poster of St. Etienne, 1992, the real Jesus painting and a tube of lipstick from RougeaJoue, in the stain the name, the red cat, the dry lane. Someone has knocked. Check! It may well be Adolph Einstein with our record! The two left on the bed spread dissappeared and swapped for cocaine. One of silver, one of gold, one of silver, one of gold, one of silver, one of copper, one of nickel, one for the balls... both dark and yellow as it happpens. My friend,

v