Uropen Ftv Mid Night Hots

sand during high tide



both want only one thing. no relation to relation. which can be as simple living. I'm afraid of him. and he knows exactly. if not, is not bad. both do everything. and for heaven's sake anything. I will lapse. time lapse for the empty words correctly. It's not as easy as one imagines it will be forever. it's hard. For me, it's hard. for him. just a bit. polished steel plates. or at least do Sun one does not exclude the other. why? intuition, linked moves and sizzling motive. why not? Prove that there is evil? mustard-yellow in autumn. about us. he is.
the technical data is no longer interested. and the only one warming up, the laptop is on the knees. poor without any cookies, sparkling world news, as always there were. Autumn Beauty, faded pebble, the trip to Neverland. my head on his shoulder, he sleeps like a stone. and see again and again, whether he's still breathing. years, often estranged familiarity. and then later also visited the returnees into the madhouse of the time. singing kangaroos. they deserve better. other universes, the planets have to stay. Always the moment of stuff, but often knowing smile. Honesty and then in different time intervals adorable. I shall be happy back there. the board of trustees of the personal war-time. because one day, the day will come. one day, I'll leave you . yep. to lead you in the summer . , World news as they were always there. and only one symikolon the whole paragraph. Prove that there is evil.

it is so easy. life. based there, forward not backwards necessary. not this time. nevertheless gathered suppleness. harmony empathy, chemistry. only here, there, and perhaps even somewhere else entirely. It's that simple. you have to just be sure. I am. not. funny. the word is funny. the key is in me. somewhere. I know. I've swallowed it. just like that. and left it to decay . I turned around. he stands at the counter. two men, as it not be more different. and when I heard the last of the takes shoulders dont know what to do with my hands when i talk to you . It all goes so much easier than you think forever. how you dont know where you should look. so you look at my hands. you put yourself in unnecessary chains as often. so long, until you stumble and suffocated. then that is life. poor without any cookies.


you are the cancer. not the biscuit, no, you're the
cancer, which runs for his life. I'm the sand during high tide . he, he is the wind, the sand grains sends traveling. Perhaps it is true, perhaps, when, well - rock on. I am relaxed as Miss Prym in its early days. stoic calm seems to me the ass. no one throws me off track.

not present. No, not now.
and tomorrow bochum.
anyway.

______________________________________________________
planned major changes in and on the blog.
status: in work, a problem of implementation. no cookies no poor.

Uropen Ftv Mid Night Hots

sand during high tide



both want only one thing. no relation to relation. which can be as simple living. I'm afraid of him. and he knows exactly. if not, is not bad. both do everything. and for heaven's sake anything. I will lapse. time lapse for the empty words correctly. It's not as easy as one imagines it will be forever. it's hard. For me, it's hard. for him. just a bit. polished steel plates. or at least do Sun one does not exclude the other. why? intuition, linked moves and sizzling motive. why not? Prove that there is evil? mustard-yellow in autumn. about us. he is.
the technical data is no longer interested. and the only one warming up, the laptop is on the knees. poor without any cookies, sparkling world news, as always there were. Autumn Beauty, faded pebble, the trip to Neverland. my head on his shoulder, he sleeps like a stone. and see again and again, whether he's still breathing. years, often estranged familiarity. and then later also visited the returnees into the madhouse of the time. singing kangaroos. they deserve better. other universes, the planets have to stay. Always the moment of stuff, but often knowing smile. Honesty and then in different time intervals adorable. I shall be happy back there. the board of trustees of the personal war-time. because one day, the day will come. one day, I'll leave you . yep. to lead you in the summer . , World news as they were always there. and only one symikolon the whole paragraph. Prove that there is evil.

it is so easy. life. based there, forward not backwards necessary. not this time. nevertheless gathered suppleness. harmony empathy, chemistry. only here, there, and perhaps even somewhere else entirely. It's that simple. you have to just be sure. I am. not. funny. the word is funny. the key is in me. somewhere. I know. I've swallowed it. just like that. and left it to decay . I turned around. he stands at the counter. two men, as it not be more different. and when I heard the last of the takes shoulders dont know what to do with my hands when i talk to you . It all goes so much easier than you think forever. how you dont know where you should look. so you look at my hands. you put yourself in unnecessary chains as often. so long, until you stumble and suffocated. then that is life. poor without any cookies.


you are the cancer. not the biscuit, no, you're the
cancer, which runs for his life. I'm the sand during high tide . he, he is the wind, the sand grains sends traveling. Perhaps it is true, perhaps, when, well - rock on. I am relaxed as Miss Prym in its early days. stoic calm seems to me the ass. no one throws me off track.

not present. No, not now.
and tomorrow bochum.
anyway.

______________________________________________________
planned major changes in and on the blog.
status: in work, a problem of implementation. no cookies no poor.

Maternity Letter Employer

aphasic



I cards a card for helge schneider, 13.12. , Bielefeld, first series.
shit, how awesome. shit, how awesome .

Maternity Letter Employer

aphasic



I cards a card for helge schneider, 13.12. , Bielefeld, first series.
shit, how awesome. shit, how awesome .

Still Have Bumps After Scabies Treatment

and the night goes on


a box-blue Gauloises and three Euros. before two years. when you were long gone. three euros is not much. the ferryman pig a left. my left eye for the right to know. the opera is over . two years. it's hunting you. still. My lungs crave nicotine. it is cold. very cold. as always. nights in any of these. I stand. and have nothing to say. what can I say? here would be a pat on the shoulder, all the best, the next tip bottle. the fact that i do not know where you are, makes the whole complex. what can I say? when everything is already said . do you hear what I say? You see, what I think? remains when nothing left . folded, folded over the belly. . Nose-bleed then I close my eyes . the thoughts of the notes, the moment the score. the heart is the instrument. what to tell you this . trampled grass under their feet. if everything I've said . dry soil and bark mulch trickle by cold hands. u nd but none of my words reach you . it is cold. there is no color. it's all quiet. it's dark like Poe . and I have nothing to say. I will not stay. There are already enough metaphors powerless. they now have an established bank. in the darkness that has created the light. another illusion, which shows that there is more makes sense, not to speak. the disillusionment gradually robs me of that awareness. no where to run. and I cling to the pain. He is all that is left to me. or not. it is crumbling and distorted in anger in front of my eyes. what is the matter still remains, I do not know. and I will never learn it. any more than what you thought. as the tree pierced through your spine. the n igh t goes on. which can ungewissheit choke me.


I rose bette somewhere where I suspect your hands. two words, thought brave, to die on their way in the darkness. they will never get to you.

and the night goes on .

as always.

Still Have Bumps After Scabies Treatment

and the night goes on


a box-blue Gauloises and three Euros. before two years. when you were long gone. three euros is not much. the ferryman pig a left. my left eye for the right to know. the opera is over . two years. it's hunting you. still. My lungs crave nicotine. it is cold. very cold. as always. nights in any of these. I stand. and have nothing to say. what can I say? here would be a pat on the shoulder, all the best, the next tip bottle. the fact that i do not know where you are, makes the whole complex. what can I say? when everything is already said . do you hear what I say? You see, what I think? remains when nothing left . folded, folded over the belly. . Nose-bleed then I close my eyes . the thoughts of the notes, the moment the score. the heart is the instrument. what to tell you this . trampled grass under their feet. if everything I've said . dry soil and bark mulch trickle by cold hands. u nd but none of my words reach you . it is cold. there is no color. it's all quiet. it's dark like Poe . and I have nothing to say. I will not stay. There are already enough metaphors powerless. they now have an established bank. in the darkness that has created the light. another illusion, which shows that there is more makes sense, not to speak. the disillusionment gradually robs me of that awareness. no where to run. and I cling to the pain. He is all that is left to me. or not. it is crumbling and distorted in anger in front of my eyes. what is the matter still remains, I do not know. and I will never learn it. any more than what you thought. as the tree pierced through your spine. the n igh t goes on. which can ungewissheit choke me.


I rose bette somewhere where I suspect your hands. two words, thought brave, to die on their way in the darkness. they will never get to you.

and the night goes on .

as always.

Pregnant With Really Dark Stool

Untitled



I look back and pull the dash. half a border. we have believed. I have believed. what is already believe is not everything seem just? there is nothing there, what keeps me still with you. you are losing the hand. a "show" does not replace a "resist" . you can lead you from the demons in your head. lighthouse keeper also suffer paroxysms under. just like all of us. are blind, if perish worlds. just like all of us. nobody's has seen that a world passes away. I would not care, I would not have it. you have guided you, and bridge the polemical destroyed. glut in the hot burned for a long for more. a last gasp, the old times sake. Destroy your blinkers demonic laced baby, and you will have it easier in life. which is true only in you . go, I do not care. a new flood washed me away.

it is not much to say. look at it, your battlefield. soaked with blood and sweat. one thousand empty words. why you liked us, "said du because we were so different. why all the words are nothing worth? abandoned. trying to save what remained still hanging. It was so much. so much. too much to throw away. cut. what kept us still. cut. attempts to dispose of it. remains the ash. you asked for it. it was your decision. My challenge is how to mist the eyes and makes me not see the stars. only tag. only one day. I was robbed. only one day for you and me. I can steal from me. what to do with all that's left? it made me fly. and now? you stumble, it slows down and you fall.

one thousand empty words. why you liked us du said because we were so different. why all the words are worth nothing?


and I can yet. My thoughts are free. it is still, from here to m edge of the world. you do not reign. I've lost, but won my own battle. I have achieved what seemed impossible yesterday. it makes me neither proud nor happy. It makes me doubt. in the hours of eternity. albeit not pass away the hours, I'll stay here. it's different than last time. nor am I sure to have demanded the right thing. only the depth of the gap can show how far they will fall. in the next days, weeks, . Months the overwhelming darkness, mummification. I sit here, in the hours of eternity. understand the hours before. before we go on anything. broken and shot out. I, the live gate. the train stops and I get in. free view to the sea. go, I do not care. if it were not so, I'd love you again. and twice as much.

hard to let go of a loved one. is soest second home since Ner scarce for weeks, still blogged:

Pregnant With Really Dark Stool

Untitled



I look back and pull the dash. half a border. we have believed. I have believed. what is already believe is not everything seem just? there is nothing there, what keeps me still with you. you are losing the hand. a "show" does not replace a "resist" . you can lead you from the demons in your head. lighthouse keeper also suffer paroxysms under. just like all of us. are blind, if perish worlds. just like all of us. nobody's has seen that a world passes away. I would not care, I would not have it. you have guided you, and bridge the polemical destroyed. glut in the hot burned for a long for more. a last gasp, the old times sake. Destroy your blinkers demonic laced baby, and you will have it easier in life. which is true only in you . go, I do not care. a new flood washed me away.

it is not much to say. look at it, your battlefield. soaked with blood and sweat. one thousand empty words. why you liked us, "said du because we were so different. why all the words are nothing worth? abandoned. trying to save what remained still hanging. It was so much. so much. too much to throw away. cut. what kept us still. cut. attempts to dispose of it. remains the ash. you asked for it. it was your decision. My challenge is how to mist the eyes and makes me not see the stars. only tag. only one day. I was robbed. only one day for you and me. I can steal from me. what to do with all that's left? it made me fly. and now? you stumble, it slows down and you fall.

one thousand empty words. why you liked us du said because we were so different. why all the words are worth nothing?


and I can yet. My thoughts are free. it is still, from here to m edge of the world. you do not reign. I've lost, but won my own battle. I have achieved what seemed impossible yesterday. it makes me neither proud nor happy. It makes me doubt. in the hours of eternity. albeit not pass away the hours, I'll stay here. it's different than last time. nor am I sure to have demanded the right thing. only the depth of the gap can show how far they will fall. in the next days, weeks, . Months the overwhelming darkness, mummification. I sit here, in the hours of eternity. understand the hours before. before we go on anything. broken and shot out. I, the live gate. the train stops and I get in. free view to the sea. go, I do not care. if it were not so, I'd love you again. and twice as much.

hard to let go of a loved one. is soest second home since Ner scarce for weeks, still blogged:

Bangbros Visa Prepaid

wind of change

spatial changes from the vicinity of the three hares window city. work-related changes: 6-month internship in a kinderkurklinik for emotionally disturbed children ages 7-17. behavioral changes: when eating birthday cake in the lunch break is announced, restless large, because in the office enough written work and are even more inactive members, which can in time could somehow do better. positional changes: one is about my own request for the office desk. wage-related changes? exactly, no.

Bangbros Visa Prepaid

wind of change

spatial changes from the vicinity of the three hares window city. work-related changes: 6-month internship in a kinderkurklinik for emotionally disturbed children ages 7-17. behavioral changes: when eating birthday cake in the lunch break is announced, restless large, because in the office enough written work and are even more inactive members, which can in time could somehow do better. positional changes: one is about my own request for the office desk. wage-related changes? exactly, no.

806 Odcinek M Jak Milosc

toxic skies

reassuring to know that there are still people with meaningful For my humor.

806 Odcinek M Jak Milosc

toxic skies

reassuring to know that there are still people with meaningful For my humor.

Cervical Mucus 33 Dpo

two worlds on the same tomorrow

encourages perfection, highlights errors, the failure is like cold smoke in the air. back. I was not going to fight them. I had not at once, return to it. ambiguous structures. the symbol of life brings you down . unprepared. in an ordinary way . flew too high. pure hubris. I was not going to escape the rigid. I wanted to keep me before they just suck. to dramatize personal failure. to confess that to be called gods clearly are more than just that. realize my own sacrifice . uncertainty remains. rest my head till the morning's coming down on me . Raising awareness. ne to the circular space. swamping the belly. and then summon the dead spot to hide the disappointment. a victim who was not. in retrospect, the certainty of forced. maybe. afterwards. the backward run, so as not to come back.

of perfectionism, the interplay of strong and weak symikolen, insignificant sets, separated by poorly painted. this all is. the flattering ambiente between light and dark. too dark. and to hell this all is in my head . the sardonic harmony and shame. the release do not want. times that I borrowed . and want but can not. the span in the eye. the wood-processing of the other. not even a blind flat arric can deceive. not even in the fog of repression.

break old wounds. unprocessed screams. dragged me down into the unknown. demand is evident. while it is not all. the perfectionism of the other pojiziert black holes in an elegant, black and white evasive maneuvers. woefully overvalued weichspülgitarren appetizer to press the front and the optic nerve. the view of the active viewer is limited, steadfast aural went to eleven. the rest are disk sets of old times. welcome, old schema. The question remains: that is minimal ground near enough to debate?

i cannot bring it back. i threw it all away.

Cervical Mucus 33 Dpo

two worlds on the same tomorrow

encourages perfection, highlights errors, the failure is like cold smoke in the air. back. I was not going to fight them. I had not at once, return to it. ambiguous structures. the symbol of life brings you down . unprepared. in an ordinary way . flew too high. pure hubris. I was not going to escape the rigid. I wanted to keep me before they just suck. to dramatize personal failure. to confess that to be called gods clearly are more than just that. realize my own sacrifice . uncertainty remains. rest my head till the morning's coming down on me . Raising awareness. ne to the circular space. swamping the belly. and then summon the dead spot to hide the disappointment. a victim who was not. in retrospect, the certainty of forced. maybe. afterwards. the backward run, so as not to come back.

of perfectionism, the interplay of strong and weak symikolen, insignificant sets, separated by poorly painted. this all is. the flattering ambiente between light and dark. too dark. and to hell this all is in my head . the sardonic harmony and shame. the release do not want. times that I borrowed . and want but can not. the span in the eye. the wood-processing of the other. not even a blind flat arric can deceive. not even in the fog of repression.

break old wounds. unprocessed screams. dragged me down into the unknown. demand is evident. while it is not all. the perfectionism of the other pojiziert black holes in an elegant, black and white evasive maneuvers. woefully overvalued weichspülgitarren appetizer to press the front and the optic nerve. the view of the active viewer is limited, steadfast aural went to eleven. the rest are disk sets of old times. welcome, old schema. The question remains: that is minimal ground near enough to debate?

i cannot bring it back. i threw it all away.