Monday, March 24, 2008

solly's spare (you ought to share)

I reverie your trucid limerick sequential sesqui-tourniquet

come on you doggerel be morseled into half the wheat

this chard reduces you to feathery fine sure spires

talk to me the radiator's tone dry and the milk

belongs to papists and their progeny nobody hears of

nominate your breast someone and I'll be paranoid

for bettering your soft spot for another heart gone by

the leash is trucey I love fresca and the banded lotion mounts

the sandy respite gives its ounces back to happening

my motion sap is dinnery

your madrigal goes here

I think I'm trying to be envious

when I have everything I need

you know the fur piece that I wear around my ankle

that's your fur and that's your ankle