Toilet Barnachilles

3 May

Toilet barnacles wasn’t twice what Hercules could have thrown, best spoken like the man he knows is having some sincerity disorder. Coming twice out of his hat, shed, should have said less about the events. In Spokane, on a newspaper, an author biography that looked inside to find the best doctors. Parsley logic rather than current meaning. The sounds are important. Yet, published more than an author, books don’t quite look, sat up right, on the book shelf. With all ways here, apparently, it’s opened to insert a pillow with the books on the shelf. The slight misgiving way of it sitting there on you. Structurers. Complaint forms logged, the errors have been appropriately gifted — vicariously through you. Gortexahedron. It was a squirm and fuzzy, and quite wet. It became more than, just a diet. A sour anticipation, selling books, or packed away. His heart felt on the ceiling. Like the man is resting, that’s how it appears. The collected works of a city shaped in panic, boom, Exxon, longevity. Webster’s Third Symphony. Cecil’s magic toma-king. When the effort is made to contend what should be, already anyways, correct, the nightstand presents features previously unknown. Although, it holds less books than a shelf.♠ Struck.

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