Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds downward & up bring real. Loss, deaths, terror. Over & out, beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds: I'll feed you how I feel:— of avocado moist with lemon, yea formaldehyde & rotting sardines O in our appointed time I would I could a touch more fully say my consentless mind. The senses are below, which in this air sublime do I repudiate. But foes I sniff! My nose in all directions! I be so brave I creep into an Arctic cave for the rectal temperature of the biggest bear, hibernating—in my left hand sugar. I totter to the lip of the cliff.
Added: 5 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 2:41 AM | Viewed: 3241 times
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