Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha III

Training day begins with millions lost, hung over rail for white water rafter rescue or dinghy patrol past bedtime. For up on the mission's wave came peace brokered by fudged libidinal neurons though what's being fired depends on the sound you're mistaking for something completely different, not even ballpark. When dad hands it to you, the pie, it is still warm, stinking of garbage trucked out of the city and on its way to some space in a Michigan landfill that was previously on the market. No way you can tell this exhaustive plea from that one, burying hundreds of protesters in a hail of rubber bullets and mace, who themselves have thought about the idea of a Kenyan fantasy escape that looks noticeably alike to Miami but in fact is the Republic of Maldives. Steward of human rights, hammering out an agreement together, reforging due engram supposed to be bathed in beige head-light. From the motorism of life, Lake Athabasca provides an alternative model to retroactivity. 

[Ad: Sleeplessness, shyness, soft shoulders, these and other accounts of unfitness govern the song of our general assembly that the radio is playing upstairs through the floor from the neighbor's flat]