Your skin sheds forth so that I endlessly crave pans of fried baclava
Posted on April 06, 2004
The seared runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous cardinals setting a spanish villa ablaze.
Ever do I seek the elusive flexures of your large intestine.
My eyelids belch with effluvial afterthoughts when you tease me with jello and chicken rinds.
surreal commpliments care of The Surrealist Compliment Generator.
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