The voluminous blooming gust of belched air comes across the dark green dark of the moor, and so does the werewolf. His mouth is spittled and raw, his breath strong and red. His penis hangs between his legs a black weight. He will eat and fuck you, his teeth in you and his hips cracking against you. So (knowing this) you run headlong through the gorse and bracken. When you find the road, its...
hello you two
This isn’t twitter and therefore I am even more up my own arse. Cheers ta, Hongkinese chap and hirsute ovum
It’s just the case that this certain race, that hasn’t losers because they’re killed, hasn’t got a special winner now Now, I’ve been about as far ahead, as I’d like to be, but there’s some distance between let’s take an aside where I tell you about Bëbe, the ice cream in the desert. Travelling in Albonia was, in detailed memorandums, an implicit...
Proper reasons for exit stage left
Derek Face, the best and most respected man who could sing in dog’s register Put down his talent and walked out the door Into the blank and fug of stand up concrete, vertical estates, upended in the sky And said, this sand and grit, and water, and gypsum mined Out of deep wells in Lincolnshire, And combined, and it heats when mixed, and my brothers stand around and smoke And watch it...