(Source: call-it-quits)
(Source: rudydontstop)
(Source: okeng)
archetype
bottled in stream pocket blue night savage memory held a figment taste at the gate & all of Jimmy the Richards farm maids had literally hit the hay, in all instances the sky fed the lonely wren to all the open heart surgeons that without a bet, know that Betsy White considers Pepsi a fright & made plans with the dentists sons motorbike to arrive on time with basic instinct & all sorts of garbling discotheque robins but Creole & Jim Stanley brought pies on by the price of standing on your head & i couldn’t explain what i couldnt help. Cracked forever, I remembered the sixty flying photographs of wicked ear flaps that seemed to be whipping the taps with the back of their hand on the top of the ceiling a treasured feeling of attack & vine smith cobbler myriad syndrome. Bertie Skilltester warbles in with a dime on substitution, I cooled her Spanish crickets by admitting that the trickery was in the tops of all coconut pineapples.
But on a serious note, who is the followed by?
I’m not a sarcastic neo-wharf, am i Grantcher Poe?
