Pickie pie

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Pickie pie

Postby Meno_ » Mon Mar 20, 2017 3:00 pm

The swinging times rolling on defined its poverty, the last stage of its corrupness appearent, when the signs of elegant poverty were torn down and a new bachaus redevelopment made for getting impassable.

Well they were pushed further south and east, and the result was a sacrifice of style by chatter, boxed into a few square blocks still.

Retaining the grandiose contemporanious region of remembrance, retaining its elemental flaw of insistence on offsetting the absolutely georgeous perfection by one little but flaming awful piece of terrible ugly, she whisper, and he was caught on the sharp claw of the lure, flailingly knowing his soul was as zenic as his projection of her as a possible candidate to miss butterfly, which possibility could not conceivably be their fate.

Desperate, for answer, he sought many through quiet whispered psychic ablutions with the seers, and made contact as with the living psychic, as with those whose spirit layered through the annals of unending borrowed time.

Through casual exchang with subterranean, sneaking purloined letters through strange stinking dirty gutters , carried by messenger pigeons , flags cheerfully scarlet and deep navy blue , flapping through storms of Dutchmen flying as if defiant to the passage,

She stood as did dido, waiting trough eternities promise sensed her manyform power, grabbed her through the tiny sliver eternity to open a crack, and see that forbidden flower no one could possess.

I was then another being he told her, never to still the restlessness of white foam and wicked journey, can it be that it happens over and over if holding tight, never letting go, the heavens themselves obey?

Get it past you now, run along, there are as many fishes in the sea as rpthere are tiny enclosed circles fading to points, as if you were at the hub or pointedly, poignantly, the magnet if strong enough changes the direction.

But it's not real, she nervously but o so delicately raised her trembling hands siluetting the black sun as caress would by bruising against him ever so delicately.

For this, thinking, so many ships aground, their fate sealed, as soon as a tiny drop fell to the parched bronzed out foreground, For this , yes, meet in the highest heaven someday , instead , manna of nectar, sweet emulsion instead of letters from underground.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
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