Embroidery once kissed me. Divinity's inherent, not a sluggish fling with ossobuco. Merely chaliced inflow vectors, calling card paraphernalia. Massage retains fair market value for the Agamemnon in us all. Never telephone me with redundant fill dirt. I've too many things to mind abidingly. Snow cone for starters. Yellow craft on blue sea water, a resultant green paler than shamrock. Relentlessly, air purifier works its way into our kickstand hearts to try and cauterize years of causality. Prerequisites for parenthood include self knowledge and eccentric brands of sanity contagious to the touch.
Ice water will be fine, relief in the first person
Sheila E. Murphy | Not the Single Notes
Contents | Mudlark No. 8