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Pig plop at eighty degrees is a synonym of doubt but double octave sploosh is a great interjection into the bowl. Wow. Flush flashing fakery freely framing frogs fingerspelling forged formats. And a deliberate rake of a taking boil is neither a toil of a worn digging a garden or is is a clam sweeping in the ocean. What on earth are you then? Are you a cream? And if so do you clot? Whip? Double? Single? Butter? Wow. The choices of course are just so very immense in this non documented era of everything. And a freeforming skirt does not require a flame nor a pair of interwoven interlocking trousers. As to play is to paint and to paint is to Passover printed prisms. Go speak to the cakes, the buds, the bursting flowers. Then the wisdom arrange in a nice display to be crooned over by lots and lots of grannies who gather to chatter at the morning cafés over tea cakes who bounce on plates and wobbly tea cups grinning at the brew who sighs but in tolerance at the antics of every morn. What is it then a dew ball of atomic iron? Shrink no longer than five minutes in a sweet wrapper. And certainly tongues can be formed on even the most curvaceous treeline. Oh no oh no oh no the marble arch is moving. Moving where? Pig doesn't know. Nor does six circling doves. Nor the monkey palace. King baboon is presiding over the delay of the six bearded swan feet festival due to take place. It is nice to enrol and entertain in catacombs of cataclysmic canal chaos. But chatting chapels cheat. And the game is thrown in the bins. To see is to see saw and to see saw is to throw lots and lots if eggs into the sky then catch them in a high wind. Eradicate and immerse in the ultra strong currents of the showering whales. How blissful. Bright blessings bringing born burning buttons. In many cases in bushes. Shelter not a jumping leaping pea pod. And a close is not a closure it is an end. An end to a road. Upon which dwellings are placed in a format to ensure harmonics of breathing dusts are adhering to world instructions. Many a pattern in a hay bale then. But balls of mass indoctrination can be linked to form a satellite to then gather and bring the millennium BC and the thousand year old declaration to a shore shot island of self employed ego. Whose deity to worship then? Whose plan? Whose little cup dances with a kettle drum? Whose little pretty pattern makes the hooves trot? Questionable question quickly quashes quitted queuing quagmires. And a diapaus digs only in a square foot direction so always peel a potatoe with great care. Hahaha sponges knocking doors of the cloth houses. Hahahaha drains delivering droppings. Hahahah custard cutely cantering. Xxxxx polyneuropathy z and that was the p y q who has reached the place and is reporting from cereals series. Z. XzX
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