LAST YEAR'S MODEL

you’ve opened my eyes to interscopes and gyrations of horse proportions. I hope this frequently updates the stampede. Give it some flailing thought, a messy minute for slow-down freezer-burn lacerations permanently against flakes.

a desert polyglot made a few sword phone calls while landing over earlobe spread. and this meant shoe to lip plucking ends early for erstwhile vainglorious drops soaking inside magazine particle pizzazz.

next to atomic nuns, nothing draws mouth grief like salty, flickering, magic pro-belts. Get it to gather, a pinch for ways in Maybe Camp. this side blessing, harnessed full of magnum flavinoids (while gross introspect came bereft) made focus spree all over again.

pride-stew balls bounce toward monitor-flying speaktanks on a florregular basis.