jim leftwich
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Bitch splotch and spit splice lurch, the cure is in the curve. Allure of blemish once left unsaid revels the textured traipse, long sense ravel the bevel text, led to bleed and lode of golden lead. Left unsaid, he said, in some since left for dead. Split the porch unread to fork the bottle swerve. The cork undead as lunch is still a string of wine.
04.22.07
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Blisters scratch the onus reading sideways from the gutter, my bag our crippled letters scrunch and/or as if a hunch. Such an unwritten ream to read unlike its felt. Touch torch to pen repast along ego, afar away and hover the dill fish shriek. War was as is and worse, as only a noun is worse. Let first thirst hurt unhinge, and gallows be thy shame, same whole shot as ever it was shut upon a sheet.
04.22.07
Bitch splotch and spit splice lurch, the cure is in the curve. Allure of blemish once left unsaid revels the textured traipse, long sense ravel the bevel text, led to bleed and lode of golden lead. Left unsaid, he said, in some since left for dead. Split the porch unread to fork the bottle swerve. The cork undead as lunch is still a string of wine.
04.22.07
|||||||||||||||
Blisters scratch the onus reading sideways from the gutter, my bag our crippled letters scrunch and/or as if a hunch. Such an unwritten ream to read unlike its felt. Touch torch to pen repast along ego, afar away and hover the dill fish shriek. War was as is and worse, as only a noun is worse. Let first thirst hurt unhinge, and gallows be thy shame, same whole shot as ever it was shut upon a sheet.
04.22.07
posted by jim leftwich at 5:28 AM
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