Friday, February 29, 2008

How Do You Beat Cubefield On Facebook


After a whistling sigh your name, I try to catch their breath and shot me a plane. I do not know why or care to know. Will you want to travel inside and bring out my feelings, bring them out when he does find the exit. But do not give to her, she flutters aimlessly for hours, loaded with 430 posts causes me anxiety and nausea. I'm about to vomit. Among vomiting I see a green sky and a bamboo pale green moon like me like me dizzy, throwing up like me. And the plane is transformed into a red rocket landed.
I hallucinating because it reminds me your cock clavándoseme ...
I recall how I turned softness to caress your lips, vibro with your determination to plant it deep inside, this time in a crater on the dark side that no one discovered.
The moon vomits more air force and I take cod and between crumbs, fruit sauces and indigestible risotto, the rocket that was a while Airbus is spread at my feet in a stream of lava that flows like a fountain of my stomach, premature family, no accident, as a sprinkler on the lawn green garden of my hair, now completely green as the moon and me and the sky.

And you are one of the passengers disintegrated between peas and piquillo peppers.

I get to drink water . Has left the sun , I curl up again, stuck to your butt and your back and sleep, and all blue

Thanks for the pictures to E. Xie, E. Schildt and C. Margeli


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