the half way nowhere sagging tit race

here int eh nows of this that the other tip tap and another rat and or of somethign else other than what shes looking at. fury round small large brooding. large cage int eh center of the smaller ever smaler room of luxuruy paid with sweat and tear for soemthing to far aoof. to much the later to near the want the want of thing the want the wan the wanting that need to be in you the fear of ascertatin of illumination of not wanting after tyou have, thinking poetry adn asthetics to teh tick of a clock with the day all done echoes of other things of birthdays and episodes and miriad miriade miadie mairiade of thing yet unspoken in the depth or of things aproaching in the nearnes of the future or in the pastness of the far off long time ago don't want to think about purle and blue and wavering too if all was a peny a shoe and a pidgeon if life were a stream and chinchillia gold. bring the back beat to teh future up to nine bring the shadow of a doubt down to the line. shining brightly in teh sun under hte underhanging baloon figurine tangerine illumination illuminatillumination is a fun word. bringing up teh last of the first the best of the last the for more hesitant beast of the labours of man in the coiled rumigated entrance of the fleeting filly's nostril in the feild beyonf the barn where they once shot my dog I feel the tiny pull of incest covered in that lie. the tiny feeling of hay fever traped inside a fly. the last of the first born ready to die in teh last wave of the first war fought with in the soul. this is the first day of forever in the happy happ happ happ happ happpy place called home in the inner workigns of the tick tocking of the buzz rocking atmosphere below the moon in the righteuos exclusion of the baffled and the torturous forever of the illumination of the sun this is the first of the last of the first in the last of the half way nowhere sagging tit race of the last ever ever ver near so far. la te da.