There are two terrible expression I've been settling on, to handle the predisposition of makeshift harmony and all the weight, that was treacherous by the betrayal being mine, which my tour sensors have alluded beyond my comprehension, in bad good taste to my chagrin, albeit comforting for my case myself confuses too often, that is my process and perhaps good bad taste, shall there be no double jeopardy for my denial several counts it was well wishes for a toast to your health with time to know what to say, and to intimate proposals farthest from the truth at this very moment, for the first time I was able to make my amends to the paths behind myself, tears of joy at the truth, lowest welling at those who have bid me betterness, starving so long I've been singing to Odin and hunting those silly druids so long the memories of eliding or something similar times, kept me from missing the werewolves storming tooth and talon the mountain observatory to kill an imortal to damage the vampires who are fighting back with gunpowder and poison tips, for I am well in the pains of learning, but would rather be on top of a mountain fighting the dragon in the dungeon from the unfinished memory that they'll find when I die, but for now it'll have to be everything else, as they sleep in taverns and cabins far below and long beyond the mountainside.
It has been better to make a list, for running errands, for hanging vulcan art on the walls of somewhere I'm not yet in it, fewer than presumed it should be wiser almost, to make longer lists if reprioritizing them, and we wish you well, some places in hoods, some drab, what is this 'update failed' i'm posting this however a close description of life, it was always a dream to have two cars, but a flat and a shity ride will have to cover ground, it was then the woman took off her cybernetic arm and handed it to them as it began spreading Lovecraftian wires like snakes and infecting all of their technology, the building was hacked and turned into a beacon before they could stop the spread thru the neighborhood of the prelevitation society, but the smart car opened for the asking, the planet was Borg in a matter of hours.
Well fuck living there, there seems to be a valid confusion while being me in the process, in the scope of patting myself on the back my entire life for it, catching myself talking to myself, we've all had long hours, and getting the guessing, the double jeopardy question too easy, a popular song over the decades or a melody of spring, half as expected and half as preparation, half as much, reversed or even right, it would've been had a weird time to deal with it a line and question, who got the bait, and that's ultimately where I'm at with whoever is dropping weaker hearts than mine, but the plot is getting thin and I'm fighting demons without gold in my pocket, having slept instead of keeping the flax, the sore tooth sings first, let sleeping dogs lie, I have to stop matching people in my mind, I'd like to live in the now without the world spiraling as the voices come clear and a sea of absent memories, too many masks to manage or maintain a full persona the magic rises, my veins struggling to deliver as my rage fail to retreat, again, words useless and broken in the shades of voices and blind running as night of amnesia, there the passing moments given the benefit of the doubt as the means to escape are quite valid if awake as quite out of reach due to insanity, to find Titania in the forest, a pause of curiosity burst to bright fire, I dash to my side into the pounding hearts and heavy hands of the native species of tooth and grin, with neither as wished seem, she specifies my remand for her anonymity, truly new to the many worlds of the Yggdrasil stands in the green earth flame, uncautious, alarmingly calm in meliflous danger, it was my trust in the creatures to leap that aided my escape of course, it was concerning to see her attacks spread more fire than feat behind me as the whole world burned, this land of Eric sure is strange, as old truths long forgotten.
The cheif was is and will be ill, perhaps the right to work having been the issuance to developable states, long live the empire, and the crowded crowds crowding can get take the popped balloon to the wizard and reinflate it, in order to buy some of the things they've been working for, two jesters Repi and Demi dance in a box, the children know they're puppets and imagine, the parents don't and watch until it's over, Shakespeare's stage is empty and streets are filled with so many clowns they're threating the job security of politicians, what jokes they'd tell that no sane person would laff, what jokes are caught like a song lyric, well-delivered or well-placed if only the setup hadn't been the premise of waiting in line as the magic grows in eyes and fades in memory only the person knows what both will say and argues with himself to get there, it was then the chair bit Demi and swallowed him taking him down into the stageline, muttering from Repi to bide time with the burden of switching hands and changing the curtain color to red, two new puppets with the same faces that even changing the puppeteer wouldn't have prevented unless the story were to change, where one pulls the other up and loses his hat, only for them to remark on it as if they had a choice.