"Our mission on earth is to transform the world into a huge BORDEL." (Pierre Molinier)
Your devoted son.
The blade is never ready as there we see the muddy bank spread. I
m'étreins ... lying to gray, a gray to shoot all the pastels in the world. I
m'éteins then revives the candle, the crescent moon.
The idea of heroism, in Eden paraplegic.
She arched, the small snake on his shoulder. He moves, shakes. I see him move. Désyntaxé.
I gathered links that separate us.
interview, written test. Written, you, kill, ballet boots, monkeys, six, five songs. Category
read, brick, redness.
I arrive. My shoes hobbling. Her dress charcoal. She, I raise, I abuzz. Perpetuity
movement of her breasts while moving, Connects the path of his thumb to my index.
in his mouth. Gross method, six thousand.
Black is back. Turtle me. Everything. I want. I ... eh? Inspector.
QED, heart bandaged, she obeys the telegram.
Max reboot. S'autant looks. And his laugh painful, as strands of pearls. Message.
Oh yes! No yes!
to envy, the bruising, red border. Displacement exceeded. Overshoot.
Gate B. Cinema-man, woman fractal Venice under the ice.
Muleta. Legerdemain. Panting in penance effluvia.
Cash-cash. Beats. Measure. Session sculpture. Déscrupule in foil.
Skylight, break your imposture. When we
fermentons fixity and our eyes fall out.
they move like animals spit in eternity.
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