Tuesday, 13 July 2010

my stalker is in your text den


dear 11 people: whose ocean is breaking apart in your eyes?

my bugs are whining when u talk about the news

sunlight is grime in your lake, in your disclosure

hate me for my qtip city; bling is in the ocean


the shaman sea hates the cat in your shredded xmas

i spill my salad when your church lips are so strict


take your whortle tail when i decide the budget

i am enjoying my meat, my lake and my

feelings; witness


i am the floor of the sea; i am not a foot in her worst nightmare

bling needs people who are willing; close your big fing


my whales are talking dramamine

i am your israel; i like salad when

my bling is on the phone


i am the church; u are having

dinner with your budget foot

his time is your mind


sneeze me wanted ocean doubts and hotel claws, ginger


i blow the right words thru the sky to your very doors

she is to a large extent a black sweater on a train


i spill myself in ohio; my stalker is in your text den

the quaker is not editing my stalker finch where

daylight is bling hatred


i am a source so strict i can't be held

i am bugs that say thank u


could your lips word my smear and feel its many rains

she is singing i am the news, she words the think

to a mouth at the sound of your door


your dinner barks i am the privacy council

there is an ocean of eyes in ohio

i am lips, i am your token ginned

convent; the church does not

want me


israel is a lake the sea woke

i have to talk in not my own

flame


whales are in a bling book

they were big but they

were not spared


she is a mouth who wags his tail

i want a news storm with a bling's

willing budget


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