Lyal O’Lollipop

Her jilted fragrance hilts the dune of exonerated shapelessness, the tapered dress pressing the constellations cleanliness, from the other perspective it’s just where the line is drawn. The paws, fawns and pawns leap intricately with no sign of indignity, the consistency is endoscopic. Our tropes frequenting common courtesy far too often, the option to lie lavishly is luxuriously admired inside its rightly inclined primal resting place to promote free-living and utility. A lunar delicacy, passive discrepancy, the incidentally expressed depressed the similarly destined expectancy. Silent sandy salutes to condemn a nervous enigma.

The toiling lows bring us to the epicenter of the story, as the drunkards share intimately the gross tales, of pompous ales, truth be sold their tails chased the fainter of the airheads. The bed lying sore like the vile pile of washing to the left, they really are trying their best to suppress the feeling simmering from intimidation. The expertly sexting joker smokes a pipe rather unidentifiable, if he were to recognize the recipient their patronage might have ended differently. Fueled by vengeful redemption, this was no chance encounter.

One might argue, if he were truly wise he might have been more careful.

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