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YELLOW PAPER POINTS AND DISTAFF ON MY TABLE-OIL

     That's the Yellow Point of all this...to shift certain positions of the Present Angst and reformulate the later dissolvement of the Future,into a non-existent, threatening Past. Ergo/to blend all the latent Tension into a pleasing and relaxed Chaos...for blank Perceptual Wrestling. Your mind as clean, shaved Felenic. Parts regard in 2./////She drank telekinesis beer, genetic strains. The first Universal Indication of suicidal orgasm. Of light, She is. With a pistol, I entered my steed and purpled quickly! She met Brando when he was only an image of Fat. The second Genetic wore a garland of China. And she sipped of Mad-Murder in Illinois. I can't see the two-too young ones, wrong societal. Faster growth perplexes the baby-mad desires. She played softball while assassinating the shoplifters.
I recall the alien dead and they are my brothers/sisters. Babbling in the checkout line, IS THE FINAL BILL EVER PAID? I can only speculate. Regards the St. Joseph dance of body parts, can't check my oil too often? I think and then I die. Make my grave less mellow!
Phouda-Gaudha!

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