of Jill's many fairy tales  ~

     Waited bated breath love song waiter wrestling with the demons of god, the inverse calculus of and she's forgotten the hair that remained her home remanded to birth and life ~ In this respect as respect goes she's g ood.

Not bad, but good as when a ropes winches close to the prisoner's neck, and tumbling down the crumble weed she breaks his neck. Jazz speed.

Is Love. Text you are weird. AS the trance strange blues. Of your covered up page. Vellum to its soft socks.
If this way she's got anything she's got everything.
Had nothing then
all its will. To part and desire.