| uncle_arctica | ||
| mary lou retina |
scrambled through the_pines like a wild chevalier busting out of the second to last grape_artillery placed on the nebulus cliff. my god, there are no waffles in nero's wastebasket. they sprayed everything a hazy shade of goverment cheese with printable dog ladders on the backs of their parkas. seven lived. even more sweat to the oldies. uncle_arctica sprouted from the bottle. he glanced at your painting, then he took a bath in carob scenery. when all of his butterflies decide on a tarragon plantation, the next anniversary is steptoes con parabolic flockers, inch after inca of spandex heights elevating to the durability issue of cantelopean magnificence. he will sell you the white innards and the brown outsides of buns. tank whistle plums which do you want? pick esprit de la banana |
051009 |