The sun has peaked its yellow butt out of the tushy-feel clouds. Jesus was an anarchist...
A CEO in wolf’s disguise...
Vaginal feel slippery orange peel slop against the tops of my fingertips...
Sleepy carnivals
Twirling copterblades ready for takeoff in gloomy summer sky...
Oh!
How she is flying, flying so high...
And yet she comes, crashing
Crashing softly in nestled woods.
Dead.
On impact.
Slammed into ground.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSmoldering.
Remains.
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wwwittthhhout
(shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
sound
