| pitains | ||
| paste! | close encounters with a brick blaster. it has been assured that white, off-white, or black shoes offset the porcelain kindly, no rest. pure fish--my tides of balsamic plastic waver like toy store breakdown whammy bars. tickle grass in sloped ampitheatres, so the grease behind your head, the neck of liner paper, the clandestine discard also tumbles far above the scheme of knuckle planets dissolved in bleach. | 020127 |