The swill of looking into a garbage map.

It was Nice of the lion to strip,
A temperament of itch.

Notice the ferrycups.
I had them installed, this dumpster.

Comb lottery stubs an island.

Pranced as mornings when get up,
Flashlights bind maple eyelids.

Tan forks and lint onion!

Kisses to my Ninty and my Babs,
My perfume. Dirty wig I’ve got.

Sample my parting gifts.

If an oil license would help,
We could relieve the pus easy.

Special for giveaway computer doughnits.

The parse is the pain.

Or was, until Unicorn.

Until my niece spends her tense.

Bogus X’s will wait for cubs
To brush pick-axe stencil noisies.

Flee the scene, I always scream.

Drum cast a city permit,
And I would boogie your assets
Out of this zoo city.

Like a taste of Victoria and salt,
The hurdles you clear,
Don’t halt.