Clapping Whilst Sat On a Cloud

Ooooh wow...a nice classy fortified wine dressed in a milky white dress. Shimmering for all to see. Injest not the erosive clatter of a purple frog. As it is far to dangerous. One may end up quacking. Or shivering in a bikini on a desert floor at three am. After midnight loopholes are often embellished with sounds so one can use a curly stick to jump into and over the many plates who arrive with handbags edged with carefully extracted silver. Who sounded the hunting horn of Thor? Not I said the fourth dimensional rune stone.I am happy to keep my inscription in this lovely luxurious box. Tinder cartoon it be not. I will wait for the wind. Erotic cries of Freya balancing on cymbal clouds. Exonerating falsities with wisps of sunlit hairs. Box shut. I marvel at the eighty nine acres of a moonlit street. Standing in a sinkhole. Sunken jag. Sunk not a beetroot though. They are very pleased in a jar whirling. Questionable is the beak of a large lobster flying. Often disguised. Disguises are unnecessary and unneeded and often the cackle of a candle can evoke a wandering godly orb. Orbital sound then. Oh good. Injestion and resulting in synchronized delivery in a swamp. Turds are often great for expulsion yet a turnip can be quite quick to move. So tread very carefully in a vegetable patch to avoid scarring. A mist in a mountain is a dew ball but free-falling with a thousand foot golden baseball bat is akin to holding a sword to a heavenly cloud to release acronyms and cones of very charismatic mind orbs. Viewed in orbicular centimetres and carried on the breezes by the caterpillar planes. Planting painting properly posted placed characterful colourful clown club visiting iron rays of dome. Sap seep swept sweltering swelling serpentry sent son. Sun. X and now I will have a sit down on the appropriate asteroid. And drink a large cup of air. Under Up under Up xxxxx