small talk

small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk, small talk and a boiling kettle the rough size of his dick. And given the extent to which this affected my morning routine, it feels right to begin with such anatomical and economical fact. Same Day Delivery is probably a curse which everyone can very well go out for a fag while i think about: is it not the same to hand-pick flowers than to pick-buy them if i dislike him nonetheless? sure, the smell of burnt fuel could be as nice as a fistful noise of bouquet plastic; if you, like me, measure the gesture against kerbside solace; if you, like me, prize not yet recyclable plastic as much as unburnt soil; if you, like me, go ahead and tag yourself to every chewed gum in the asphalt, a fossilized sort of urban surveillance. Like moss acting up on a window sill, placeholder for all our anxious reminders to just snooze past. So, now, just suppose this was about you. Were all my sung tongues to open a delta of bruising lips, helpless - in the same sense that artworks are often literally fragile, Touch would thus only be granted upon exchange on some level of ADORATION (yes, employ it loud mouthed, full mouthed, shut mouthed, all the synonymous fat for you know very well what) This much is a good idea perhaps: to grab HIM by the nostrils by means of the socially agreed TWO-FINGER hook, Or more spiteful anglo-tonguing, will anywhen gag of the order, ORDER, order of the Rt Honourables. No, dear, oh dear, it's not so much English we speak as the after-whisper from an arm’s wide strait of conflicting wind speeds.