Capacity of blown messa man.

Rushes surround drained sur salt 

capacity Of blown  glass message 

caught whilst histrionics string you along 

to find Agatha has stings in typed print hands

And drives you across fairways

for petite trois faux coats matches

And go box victory model houses

Great reeding on a melt away performance

sextant secrets on mint jumped courts

Not that I ever had one that I’d keep

In a castle covered with twisted creepers 

Surround by the Eyes of shaved mounted wolves

into the woods with a coin made from crowns 

to pay for crabs to drink 

Far sighted longing sighted sighs of latitude

Southern letter headed flying towards open windows 

vipers Sneeze and you could miss it 

fresh balls to shine your own Blown lighting jar 

of a minotaur planet of decadence decades

And whilst the wind blows when the otters

Laugh with so many clams in hand 

Keep your dead whale and don’t forget to light

The blow holes with your dynamite cigars 

to find three missing golden lyres

a Paired site of pyramids locust that flower 

And many a scar amongst men of the borough 

And a harp to string

I find myself to be a very busy green dog.

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