🚀 go-pugleaf

>What makes you believe that all I see, all I touch, all I think, is
>not already M-medi(t)ated, extrapolated from yr existence in
>trapolepositioned well-pleated kilterpsichorean (careful, m'dear, or
>I'll remind you of yr black mini) rock&rolls of the rilly imperative
>wish that this userid should be castled in yr mind, if nowhere else,
>when killed in action, adventure, romance, go-go dancers: chorus,
>please, Arthur: "crazy..."
>
Her also-ran-tan crisply clamors for attention, surmising the cariosa
scalings that adorn all these fallen flivvers, yet the self-razeeing
dreadnought(-&-cross-word-puzzles) have delivered unto her a snashing
[sic] success, from vestibule to vestry where she, perfect prefect,
discards the bricole with less ado than might be given an annoyance:
Yet: the redoubt redouts and finds that her ericoid touch is more than
enough to keep this sederunt afloat: I love her in postcard photos
element-exposure ruined, I love her in the tonic slam that provides
in-house-arrestimations of just what she means to me, I love her in
the distances, the flint-sparks, the black minivans, I love her.
All In Due Time.  Which, incidentally, has just run out.

G'night, all.

M(H760-castled)