larooche his spine did spit.
An able frame,
twist within the axis parab'le.
Fever not accompanying the congested
sinul cavity cavernous coaxed.
Throat pulled from the ashen coals
and simmering under the glaze of iced glue-on.S.
Wretched head you succumb to the ill,
wretched thing, letting in this hell.
If you weren't the controllers domicile
I'd rip thee from a place atop
a pillar from hence your base.
Tissue....bone...tissue.
cough. tissue....pass the fucking tissue and my tea.
This cold is killing me.
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