Freakazoid Skeleton…

SHIRT:

Hear her saying that you are a feeble mindless hap apparition.  Bring out the magic, fling from the sorrow, secrets sound like a wish. Looking down from baskets and graveyard.  She was in her soft wisdom.  Foraging forward incipient labor, docile plagued in the future.  She is tongue-tied probably discovered she is no longer a madman. Hoped for the winter torn, for the beginning, springtime is the parade.  Ocean traveler tortured by moonlight bridge door open sudden in weeping.  Out in the night she sees you let go of the only reason she is with you.  So if you want to leave.  Stand by the fire.  Hear the sounds sweep by.  Driven toward the sky, worked over to beg in the basement hey just leave me alone.  I looked for the keeper to guide me through.  The gate was unguarded.  My weary steps tremble in moonlight.  Feeling around at the possibilities squirming away from the monster mind talk.  This one will get you flying back into the garden picking berries like the dyed shirt flowers.   A quick smile and she bats her lashes, in an instant your teeth are clattering with funny love by the river’s ghostly rhythm.  Hardcore beasts linger lion’s laugh in the lonesome abyss.  Ejected through the hope that there is more to life than the awkward repeat.  She is shirtless, brains battered shapeless in her home.  But I can’t feel your taste or feel that you’re here in my erect mischief.  Wandering in and out by the ocean, by the desert, by the wilderness, by the thoughtless.  The milk has glass in it.

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