Disgusting
There quarcosa nun who goes around here. I think he felt
de 'n take taste,' na de rancid stench. There
quarcosa nun who goes. It will be the company?
I think of them vedè runs Concealed mice. They compete with them
mejo mice, s'abbottano de cheese.
Maybe that's what stinks. I think de
lives in a sewer.
me feel quarcosa give profonno,
a sense of disgust.
is just from afar, but here is acquired influence.
It 's like swallow the same bullet, but that each
Vorta back up.
E 'profonno a sense of disgust.
Me knows that the mussels the magnum heart nun more milk.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Does Seman Smell Like Fish?
dreams proletariat project
I dreamed of being a bee and repose of the most colorful flowers, I dreamed of flying.
I dreamed of being appreciated and admired, to be feared and respected.
In the dream I was flying humming, while I saw the world go by beneath me.
captain in a service station for cars and posavo me on the edge of a window half open, so that when the car started, I was already facing the wind to savor the spectacle of speed.
I held the wings closed to avoid compromising the aerodynamics of the car and I felt the strong wind that stirred the hair on the back.
I enjoyed so much to risk losing his balance and with its feet firmly, like a surfer of the window, I stayed perched on the edge of that glass and I liked it a lot.
When the car stopped I flew away happy.
was wonderful to be a bee, had adventures, doing business with the story the pollen with honey and trafficking of the drones. I had a respectable social position.
But sleep is over and the dream ends with sleep, I woke up. I'm back
cockroach, I suck the other and a bit 'to myself.
The means of production of honey, pollen mass distribution and exploitation of drones continue to be captured by the bees that are organized. We are cockroaches
social disintegration, first and morally.
If I went into a service station car I could put myself under the wheels of the first part of that.
I dreamed of being a bee and repose of the most colorful flowers, I dreamed of flying.
I dreamed of being appreciated and admired, to be feared and respected.
In the dream I was flying humming, while I saw the world go by beneath me.
captain in a service station for cars and posavo me on the edge of a window half open, so that when the car started, I was already facing the wind to savor the spectacle of speed.
I held the wings closed to avoid compromising the aerodynamics of the car and I felt the strong wind that stirred the hair on the back.
I enjoyed so much to risk losing his balance and with its feet firmly, like a surfer of the window, I stayed perched on the edge of that glass and I liked it a lot.
When the car stopped I flew away happy.
was wonderful to be a bee, had adventures, doing business with the story the pollen with honey and trafficking of the drones. I had a respectable social position.
But sleep is over and the dream ends with sleep, I woke up. I'm back
cockroach, I suck the other and a bit 'to myself.
The means of production of honey, pollen mass distribution and exploitation of drones continue to be captured by the bees that are organized. We are cockroaches
social disintegration, first and morally.
If I went into a service station car I could put myself under the wheels of the first part of that.
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