At any rate, the past few months, have included some weird search strings.
Now, some of those are so truly bizarre that I felt I had to manipulate them into some epically bad poetry, so here you go. The only words that have been added to this are 'with' and 'oh'.
Sound bites as grapes
break spring. A formal feeling -- September chapters.
Your lemon kiss to faith; Nipple -- clit, skirt, hands...oh.
Oh, you ladies. Stay blind. Sleep in chicago pictures.
Oh, rub lower .
Your stray love, your slash love,
caught by cameras.
This exile, this scar, this drunken freckle:
there is more truth in this, than your hand, her nipple,
Your great pain, your august, your sex;
exile and fire, blind fox asylum in winter.
Kiss season, kiss times, kiss songs,
kiss nights back lit and deeper,
with your beautiful hips and your shirt,
your hand so violently up my skirt in the rain.
This scene is missing.