Precious are my when dreaming oatmeal says lets be eggs.

And said let's be done with love, I am the dandy sexual snake, embodied and not organized, screams sings signs: "I need a target that will strike at the eye of my weapon," so,
Let's be done with love.

Let's get fucked in the hunt. Get hot in the move and melt the ice bridge, lose our fingers to handshakes and shopping-cart wheel sex. Let's fuck off our elbows.

Let's fuck off Sweden, Sweden, consensus of the geologic and more so national. Fuck off America, consensus of the Puritannical and dollars clocks are too.
And you, of your parents up to the point that you realized that you were a sex, and the political climate at the time up to and when you realized you were a sex, lets be done with love.

And your barmitzval bestiary, your coming-of-age metaphors beaver pussy cock ass clam. Fuck animals, The animals we christened with your genitalia, that and not with for,
captive eye at the zoo, captive eye of the zoo, captive zoo of the eye.

Lets fuck off in the new world and fuck it. The continent that had no ancient dungeons for the sexual subconscious we have yet to discover, in quickness of howling medical consensus, Who gave the continents pen, What is my myth, as far and as used and not consensus, the affirmation of what is rejected in each consensus, the cancellation of the middle as ground, the end of an island,

full are the doors.