All Colloid, All The Time

Percolatin' rhythm and shins, nothing to dangle ate all the carrots perfection and junk in coffin rooms, we sample those nodes where the forms came through. Thinking, it's good for us when we store memories we can use. Throat and glands so swollen can hardly swallow anything, not hungry even, either. Per chance, tea or some other thing tried to hep me but no avail, just some slight relief. Here is text complaining. Call the odd doctor and see what ails you. The fascination of the street moves to me when the troubles are uninflected. Pure gusto. Have to write reports on things and such as they are there are tales to tell. Oh well, not even a shoreline has a chance these days. Early in the morning, rising in the street with cars and other technological advanced fiascoes, just our luck that lunch made its numbers thin and absorption-free. What is it people are always saying? You should consider youself lucky and so on. They are always adding and so on to everything. Whazzat?! Saw the exclamation pt. inscribed inside the question mark and liked it, where did I see that. Pshaw! You feel like too many cupcakes again, me.