October 13, 2016


But Is Blessed By Nobody.When You Are Awakened In Thy Damn Dead Gorgeous Summerhouse,still Cannot Find A Shade Elsewhere In The Milky Way,to Coax Thy Galazy And The Grave Cannot Contain Thee,in Thy Embelished Ogre-hunting Of The Day.How Many Of These Slippery Birds,could Encircle,And Outwit Thy Eagles-in-flight And Overturns This Hewn Of Haggard Frail Nature,Tangled In A Dog Eat Dog Pontoon Of Terrestrial Fleeting Species,incarcerated By Its Virtual Cycle,that Blazes,Above The Sky And Starry Nights?Damned On Its Shabby Art,overwhelms These Birds Of Passage And Ontologies, Who Kick UpThe Daisies,many Times,BeforeTheirTime.Morning As A Glorious Oracle Of Time,IsPrecariously Unknown,Due To Its Cultism,a Trenchant Horse,with Its Wolves,glaring AsTact And The Past And The Future,cannot Contain Them.Do Not Gloat Over Forgotten But Gentlenight,to Rollick Its Gaiety,but A Violent Night That Ends Ghastly Lurks And Keeps Men On Their Toes As Chef Of A Pending But Tumultuos,glorious Morning.That Coat Of Nebulous Ados..

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