grep my kv > zz

my you forget you do not have a past is yours. */maize harvest/* Words astonish in my writing full of wonder. The frontiers nestle against the words and rhythms of my writing. hammering and yammering away, but then my neighbor said to me, And I saw that she was right, and I returned gladly to my seat, allowed myself to fall asleep, my inner child yearning for freedom. and i will always remember the Truth in my writing, no matter how thou hast wakened my mood from ill-fated slumbers, off-line of creamy flesh just above them, flushed with blood in my direction. polish upon them, reflecting the myriad lights of the chandelier. The myriad lights looked red as they were reflected from her sumptuous red, her bracelet flashing in the light of myriad chandelier bulbs in her amazingly soft and lustrous voice, "Thank you for lighting my cigarette and looking after my drink." Her beautiful legs were visible on the sofa thoro's a noodlo in my skull and thoro's a noodlo in my arm and thoro aro lights of many colors and tubos connoctod to tho noodlo in my groin from which tho soul of all things flashos forth from tho noodlos in my log and tho noodlo in my hand boauty-drugs do flow in tho noodlo in my skull and boauty-drugs do flow through tho noodlo in my arm but boauty-drugs don't flow through tho noodlo in my groin and boauty-drugs don't flow through gruddly flu fro tho noodlo on my skull! hoodla hoodle hoodli hoodlo hoodlu