sympathomimetic Head wounds

How I Lived in the Burn Unit undetected by nosy robots.

Subscribe to RSS feed

It's a Shame.

It's a shame that the bold have locked the hammers in the vault. This time they look a little
uneasy, as if they have stolen something from the church sanctuary.
I could use a hammer. The nails have uncaringly drifted out of their positions, though the framework is intact, it has taken on the look of an exploded example diagram. I would much prefer the origional artifice.
It's a shame that the chthonic catalyst has simply drifted away, leaving behind a slim void of angelic wastes. They had the best soil of fertility and reason, but didn't rotate the fields. leeched all the nutriants and the growth of fresh images and sound was left whithered to try to catch a foothold in the shifting sand dunes.

Captain Needs his dinner.

For the reason of necrotic fluidity, made pungent Baxter
Of course you the
The block of that Marble fountain kept up along with our slow crystalline antithetical movement vehicle for several miles. I was winded. Sunburned as a lock of hair from the Earthworms of Democratic ligiture.
June 2012
M T W T F S S
May 2012July 2012
1 2 3
4 5 6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15 16 17
18 19 20 21 22 23 24
25 26 27 28 29 30