your right to be depressed, crunching my river of flesh,
yore eight story fishermen mithering the stolen porcupine,

it's the chicken pellets mixed into sacks of concrete vermin bait,
which cause the rusting of the crab apple tree's theta rated paunch of
determinative pasteurizer

plankton iterate feebly within a coil of sawdust dripping
it's about the future, this retro-respective high-saturation culture out,

art imitates life
my job speaks volumes about me and my crunching sliver of fresh toffee,
my taste slits teflon beaks with ease,
your swollen swine punched the yarn spun by fisherman existing in the
negative Y-plane only,
tied in with cat polluted Z-Buffers,
and voluminous tomes written about egg mayonnaise stained tea-towels,

a list of famous people and their negative traits follows:

barack obama is dreary
osama bin laden is a bore,
david beckham is a cheese-face,
britney spears is a ham-fisted poop,
the pope is a time waster,
tiger woods is a berk,
tom cruise fakes enthusiasm,
the queen eats cheap bread,
eminem is a dick-weed,
paul mccartney lacks charm

these are the famous people and their faults,
my clutch pedal mismatched the tempo
of quality-assured felt, shown in vestibules of estuaries
bleary fridge-topped pickle folder

blanket of crumb pitted sawmills
crinkling cat spit
blinking myopic bolt scathed tambourine

soiled empathy

post a goat

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