Tattered Sbaquie 2000

…undeniably tattered and shredded my itinerary compromised by being considered as prey and being expected as a masochistic self-flagellator losing revenue to the big gun’s atrocious tillage of the mind’s phosphorescence I bagged the boy’s brigade for being bridges and then being able to be nearly my own cerebracy and again appreciating my own celibacy … in a rational loss of solicitude for those obliquely using or anti I built ramparts against the banality of the ill-advised and the ephemeral lacy streak of zig-zaggers and water-diviners and lost the locality so as to bequeath my solid grade before I pop off into the space of the grey morning light Now don’t get overstrung