In caressing your follicles I am only vaguely reminded of the bitter harvest.





I'm going to have to print this thread out and bring it to the abandoned zoo outing, for inspiration.

Aww. I got this one. Which means it's randomly selecting surrealist compliments, not randomly generating them. That's mildly disappointing.

Give me your hand that I may want of your broken nails.

My pathological scar desires to cite poetry through the ruddied girth of your soul!

You are the swordfish that will never shower.

The seared runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous cardinals setting a spanish villa ablaze.

You salivate strongly, like a platoon of army engineers trapped in a fit of malaria.

May your succulent earlobes ever flap about my knees like a thousand wooden pigeons fleeing the local sawmill.

Your dainty nostrils flare with the humblest grandiosity of an ant swallowing a water buffalo.

You do but seize my motor fixtures into a likeness not unlike the moon.

:cool:

Many sausages have known things before you had time to react.


Umm.. duh!

Soft sausages would gladly procreate in the bathwater of your verisimilitude.

Your skin sheds forth so that I endlessly crave pans of fried baclava.

A suburban distance lying across your chest, a purpled frock befitting the asphyxiated, cans of lima beans upon your knees, you are truly a goddess of disturbed tranquility!

Marmots will stick to you in Delaware


Your hair sends forth a sheen remniscent of a wounded man streaming bandage gauze from the highest church steeple

Your skin emanates such a porcelain sheen that I am tempted to stamp WC under your bosom and across your armpits.