Having a wonderful tine. So glad to here
about your draft dodger’s marriage
to that awful ghoul. It’s the best flu
I could have received this reason. Hope
they’re misery incarnate.
I can smell your distrust from the skis
that I reefed yestereve. Yew’ll come
around convendorly, your own tine
and puce, I’m shore. Torch this
where you convive! Remember that cocked
tail’s parity, whence you stank the pit cure
of marty’s? Load, that was grating! Toasted
of chicanery and mesquitoes unforgiven.
Joan’s swipe sawed that the newt misery
instrictor is a flouncey man with a bed over
bit, and a singing strand of rabbit twirlt
bemongst the airs or aroint the nape.
Send honey! I’m bursted in gelled
bars against, but I forswear my inner
since thair all fashtodians dove hear.
Sonseat is fastidious without you; bets
are coughed as to whair yew’ll shore up.
I got twenty on the peer. Joan says sand.
Dumasque! Whee but no yew haste the fill
of the grand on your souls. Sosounds air
write oath, yes? Send honey! damn yew,
I’m fat and Joan’s alloghettit ‘bout least
tine yew wair hear. Paulie’s to yew, two
yearns, to that awful ghoul of a suninlay
yew’re buried with now.
Yew’re mist at all the burst bares.
Yew’re mist in all the broked hurts.
Having a wonderful tine with louts yew
wair hear. Send honey! I smell yew!
Yew’re mist with all the stooled falls.
Yew’re mist and ingot all one shoed be
tine enough or pisson to come. Not all lones
wood mist yew, yew no? Butteye dew.
And that shoed coot for sum ding.
Why dent yew love me like I yew?
© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved
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