Trapped here in the moist

So it is time for the great Traveler to write a long story about eating the paristes insoide the tubes of this female whale that I have so agreeabley gotten lost inside. the rail sound of the foosh sweeping in and out of the fennel sack is enough to make the side of your head open and close with a velocity of a wormet. I can't write this word of mine inside the tooth because he would have the right to eat most of me. I need the part to eat. So I resume here after having a beer or two seriosly. I have. And I type this at the paper house. Plus I will move into a place now with a man. first time I lived with a man I was sucking the sweet milk form that baby bottle pop ring. Now in the first time since the Beatles played in Oregon I can have the Freedom to eat snacks without shaving my face. Can't seriously think I can type at this point huh?