Wef

the focused fork I dried beside your
feet the frying fuel the the flame
fingers folded in my hat I flew
upside your face I followed all the
feces round the hill .so at the entry I
sat ,ectomorphic even ,eating the engine
of my exit from the egg .when the window
wails ,the wallet wanders and I wall
owed in my whistle ,waking ,wooden and
wondered what my pantsleg was