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 Encamped across crisscross the plain: Eidolon___ and the dead woman . blank dead weight wooden stare.
a bulged bag of sac. is this obscure to her pretense the deathly conceit her cone shite, deathly on her arse.

Not so this Mona who's thus to her loving curtsy!

if jill has  a shire then it's a hit a hut a village for bodies to raise their  wings, weaving to the raining sun and the rising flare of its sun and shine before there holding its back bare branch forfent   ~.

id And libido escape this simple plum. but broken on the treble clef they're escape d the already shaped things that are said to be expression.
 Now jill cant creep her way through . this trew and thoroughfare.
  A shrill meaning to each priority as the band wordless to its daring. Molecules aship ahoy! The pan man and rain woman her feathers to keep daring summers of her winter cry.