Writer's Block: Clothing Options
Do you have the blood? Are you the one to whom the new cult are begging for
absolution?
A little matter of soiled lands,Your Blueness. That your peers be expunged.. for this I am caught is astoundamating!
Synchronize twin compensation.
Blood and bones mouths of your palate?
Aww, the extended rivers of it.
God Above, and not earned.
Surpassing any bottom dollar you'd bet, I wager they want something.
What who can give stones life love vitality meaning.. ~
- and fuck you as you glow; that you should demand spewing obedience and the angel who The Lord commands at your pitiful wake.
Such a noble brazen inebriation,
that even the monsters will be allowed voyeurism
Dear me!
A god being this mature to die for a sledgehammer.
Still retaining, be bound them, Citizens, O She who demands you back.
And I am awaiting ever loving, believing buying obeying this?
Who but who? am I it???:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Curiouser
and
resuoiruC
This is so exhausting.
Matter??rettam-itnA
Pardon me, but of dissent and hole, I want desire and suffice it so;
fer~vor will be everything; saint's patience.
A survivalist occupation.
Paltry salvation lying at Her feet. I want humans to amuse me, wherever they be, not to gather.
Beautiful bruises justify my conspicuous camouflage.
Are you up to a god who, but the times, bears the fruit of deletion?
I..a holy host ♥
lenience among deity fury into the the most glorious shadow of shame.
Exhibitions of sin, pinioned in vanilla and the blue blood of martyrs,
Self-ruination whistles at the altar, after years of tiptoing past the graveyard, pocket full of dimes.
Do {not!} wake that old utility, yet unspilled - sheer inferiority of purpose and pomp.
I'd have torn want.
Give me another loving god I can understand.
I, the prodigious progeny.
I deserve give me give
..and alas, subservience; insignificant in It's ashes
a heaven of understanding clutched or the blood and I laugh twisted tree of knowledge, I want do wake me who do you think you're talking to?
Lady Pestilence, lift our collective whose opened psalms beg for alms
..and perhaps the true and transitory joy.
Where are your dead?
I'm {not!) sorry,
{tho I'm on my knees myself.}
Who can give of boundless rhetoric, the savior of deity, one who the skies and our slit wrists hunger for!
On second thought, Citizens ~ I want unbelievers, who left the kinder on look down and crippled all your me, lest you and obtuse captivation.
Illyria - great master and absolutely nothing.
We can
{..and then perhaps she caught him raving at the network and set him off on another task. Poor ungrateful angel. ;-) }
absolution?
A little matter of soiled lands,Your Blueness. That your peers be expunged.. for this I am caught is astoundamating!
Synchronize twin compensation.
Blood and bones mouths of your palate?
Aww, the extended rivers of it.
God Above, and not earned.
Surpassing any bottom dollar you'd bet, I wager they want something.
What who can give stones life love vitality meaning.. ~
- and fuck you as you glow; that you should demand spewing obedience and the angel who The Lord commands at your pitiful wake.
Such a noble brazen inebriation,
that even the monsters will be allowed voyeurism
Dear me!
A god being this mature to die for a sledgehammer.
Still retaining, be bound them, Citizens, O She who demands you back.
And I am awaiting ever loving, believing buying obeying this?
Who but who? am I it???:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Curiouser
and
resuoiruC
This is so exhausting.
Matter??rettam-itnA
Pardon me, but of dissent and hole, I want desire and suffice it so;
fer~vor will be everything; saint's patience.
A survivalist occupation.
Paltry salvation lying at Her feet. I want humans to amuse me, wherever they be, not to gather.
Beautiful bruises justify my conspicuous camouflage.
Are you up to a god who, but the times, bears the fruit of deletion?
I..a holy host ♥
lenience among deity fury into the the most glorious shadow of shame.
Exhibitions of sin, pinioned in vanilla and the blue blood of martyrs,
Self-ruination whistles at the altar, after years of tiptoing past the graveyard, pocket full of dimes.
Do {not!} wake that old utility, yet unspilled - sheer inferiority of purpose and pomp.
I'd have torn want.
Give me another loving god I can understand.
I, the prodigious progeny.
I deserve give me give
..and alas, subservience; insignificant in It's ashes
a heaven of understanding clutched or the blood and I laugh twisted tree of knowledge, I want do wake me who do you think you're talking to?
Lady Pestilence, lift our collective whose opened psalms beg for alms
..and perhaps the true and transitory joy.
Where are your dead?
I'm {not!) sorry,
{tho I'm on my knees myself.}
Who can give of boundless rhetoric, the savior of deity, one who the skies and our slit wrists hunger for!
On second thought, Citizens ~ I want unbelievers, who left the kinder on look down and crippled all your me, lest you and obtuse captivation.
Illyria - great master and absolutely nothing.
We can
{..and then perhaps she caught him raving at the network and set him off on another task. Poor ungrateful angel. ;-) }