THERE MUST NOT BE ANY SHAME FOR THE HUMAN BEING.
BODY IS OUR CREATION IN THE ORB'S CAGE.
EACH CREATURE IS MOVED BY OUR BAD SEEDS.
OUR NAILS SCREECH ON THE LIMPETS WALL.
OUR SEEDS ARE INVADING THE CITY OF FICTION.
SPROUTS ON THE FIRE DEER'S CRANIUM.
OUR BAD SEEDS . WILL RELEASE THE CITY.
THE HAWTHORN ARMS ALREADY LAID DOWN ON THE HEAD OF THE
A REDTAILEDNightingale SING on a holly oak.
Tribal drum match_support of absence //
All that remains is a MMmistymystical dance for a change of.
QuietPerfect structures where I find myself childhood games______your breast covered by spider web it makes me magnificent tightrope walker.
Putrid. Lake. Salted. Damp heart evanescent leave sunset drip on sweaty scrotum.