RTC2

Heat island bow echo; the drops and pushoff almosts of the teething parent, those screams, must be daddy sins; still capping what they want to/o; oi smell pretention, and some sedentary clotfest; mm, your upper lip. What are you doing? Stress what you want to/o. I am pretent, obnox, bastard/ious. Devious and a mofucker as well, but I love my mother and the one I call mama now like no other no I never fucked my mother but I may have jacked off to the thought of it, we are all sick fuckers, fronter, animals, and emotions abound, more dimensions of madness and mutation than a string theory or any dream of beautiful math can hold, screaming out at fifty million watts into the ignorance that we call the universe capital tm add a circle and dot it, copyright enforced; pray space, and hold your ass; open. No I don't know what the fuck. I believe you believe that there.