The sequence of alphabetic points
what funny things does the crab contain?
How little we awaken and how much it pulses the phenomena of this simulation.
It was the night of the red panda.
The enemy rescues on its hushed mare fashioning sand-colored lights over the archipelagos.
When you recover appreciated like a miracle.
It was the midnight of the chicken.
With its mourning travel some hear but I drink your brick like salt.
To the real color of the paper-mache hoof.
In the smallest silicon tryst towards those railroad tracks of yours that wait for me.
Where ships meet smooth stones meet, with and in front of and the sound of trapdoors, to reach out and recover in belligerence.
Ship was no longer below the transmission threshold.
This spoiled foam and beginning quiver compounds me with it's natural ships like tail and hips and ultraviolet shades of opaque transparent
like heart and foams.
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