Approach the absolute dead in Stagira, Greece. Please. In front of a collection of indivs, I proved I had a problem with insanity. When the insane,
As she lay dying,
When I fell,
My infinite divisibilty, shown for ten years. Impressed. Vested. Ideally, there is a happy future after death. Death wears a tshirt that has skulls on it. We sit on the hill and drink milk and eat wild strawberries. The difference between sanity and insanity. Between you and me, you and I. We drink and you sing, eh? My savage inheritance is that I can recog the smell of burning teeth.

The end explodes. Narcissistic. Social. Progression. The organ erotic 0 over seven years. When he was insane 0 he valued nothing but the expression of his narcissistic social progression. Archaic. Autoerotic. Nutritive. eye-ear contact. Just get close to my ear, please. Kiss my ear. Unsanity, insanity, sanity, exsanity, presanity. Should have done better in differential calculus. He hair was dark, intermittantly. NOW AND THEN ONE - archaic, erotic. Disillusioned, he refused to behave for the LIFE photogs. They gave him whiskey. He dreamed of killing his children, poor man. Pal. Narcissistic in the extreme. Yes, he was sleek. An elegant man. Well-dressed, whatever that means. Troubled by insomnia. He loved violent car rides. I am looking for a violent car ride. Oblige? Oblate. Her eyes were oblate like euc leaves. It was my worst possible "terribly impressed." Horribly impressed. Ready to dance? Old it up on the big stage - in front of all the regulars. The college youth exasperated Mark Van Doren. Van Doren does not deign to eat a Pastrami sandwhich.
Mr. Pastrami, what is the name of the next number?
Number One.
quills pills will pain
colossal fame
My lasting consolation is in some other kind of situation. Made me mad. I put on my checked pants and crawled into a large, barnlike structure. The atmosphere - literal, not fig - was diff in there, though. Six feet, his pistols at half cock, spurred by the laughter of girls, he restored me to my ancestors. She had a passion for male clothiers. The people killed before morning were swept into Kansas. By whom? By Sevens and Eights. We friends, ain't we.
Ain't we?
He took a rifle from their bodies. He took dead ponies from their bodies. They were killed in two weeks.
He suggested all his daughters learn shorthand. Wore a wig. Kept candles in his socks. A little sugar heat? Veet. This has all accrued. Contribute? Vute. He went to one of the leading schools and learned about the nutritive powers of candles and honey, ponies and rifles. They gradually washed dozens of machines for the matriarch of the dowagers. The y shaped stick. Bantered on in the best of his books. "Please transfer this to my account of posterity." The spirit of the age: a sore throat.
It's not fair that the summit elevates. Reduction interrupted. I bow my slimy head. Unwelcome, destroyed and eaten, I ask for a second date. Frottage in the front seats, the parking brake in the way. For fun, let's eat flies and see who dies. They inebriated each other with zeal on just the second date. They both wore new clothes. They tasted the rot in each other's teeth. What? Temerity/ Here in the garden? Bury it with the carbon. He told the most fascinating story about mental derangement. I drew blood with a hug