lam.also.can.blog

When there is a direct object which is a personal pronoun, the adverbial particle is placed after, not before, the personal pronoun.

E.g. I cannot make it out. Put them on. Throw him out.

Particles in time, what else could I do? Cause I’ve always needed someone to cheat. I’ve always wanted her more than she. Nobody could ever believe the load of it. Here on the clouds, I am the rain and you’re the song. But she; she laid out the sea to recycle me. I can’t get through, can’t get through, can’t get through to you… Sometimes you’re easy on me like glycerin but sometimes your heart just won’t buy it. And I’m itching all over cause I’ve always needed someone to cheat. I’ve always wanted her more than she…

Your acetylene efflorescence could be the key to my pronunciation…

The blow that hits me, the sore Friday mornings, I live in a town where you can’t wear heels, and everybody likes it if you’re quote-worthy. Put on some cream, brushing teeth, I feel lousy against her listless temperate breeze. I feel plastic, shut me down, replacing batteries for a living but I’m viciously viscous and generous at night. I can’t seem to quake this feeling, I am Karate Cassius, ninja chop. The blow that hits me, the bloc party, I could demonstrate in Japanese, you could watch me entertain but you can’t defeat me, I am Karate King. The healthy existence, I keep the swift reflex in slow motion. To use bleach only on the whites, this town where you can’t wear heels, it’s hard to print more than one copy of me. I am Karate King Cassius, ninja chop.

Hurry. Love. This wait only makes me lethargic. Letting your commentary resolve with a  glass of whiskey. Letting it trickle down the pleats of your heart. No. Alarms. I’m an alien of your government query. The creature and his spaceship that hovers. The shade of bitter vigilance. Either. Way. It’s telepathy. It’s music without strings. It’s news that lacks complaint. It’s stagnate weight on my lungs. You’ll have to hurry. Love is urgency. Obliging. Softly. Into the quivers of faith. The distance only our eyes could reach. I’ll deliver you into remote atmospheres. With a glass of whiskey. To vague this lethargy. Hurry love, without alarms and either ways I know you’re obliging softly…

This is a Kodak Disc 6000. (Manufactured: 1982-84, Lens: Aspheric f/2.8 12.5mm, Shutter: 1/100, 1/200, Film Size: HR Disc, Negative Size: 8×10mm.) Introduced by Kodak in 1982, the image size on disc cameras was 8.2mm x 10.6mm just like the Minox’s format. Though the image size was large enough to generate a fine 4×6 inch print, this could only be pulled off with a good-quality lens and apposite camera-holding technique; the two priorities often deficient. As a result, most consumers were not contented with their results.  In addition, the cameras were inordinately large for the film size.  This was a result of the circular disc fan, as well as the diverse bells and whistles that the manufacturers determined to build in, such as electronic flash and motor drives. If, in its place, they had put an improved quality lens in a slighter package, the disc camera may have actually thrived… Another day, another bargain.

Lying down on greener grass, tracing clouds with our fingers, today, I’ll abscond my time, and immerse myself with your zephyr. Sentiments; running in circles like, children chasing butterflies, your lips; blush in pink and balms the sun, so that we needn’t hurry… You could rest your head on my chest, letting my empathy sink you to slumber, this moment; unsurpassed, but night is the time we have to part, before the moon closes our path back home…

Four makes a happy family. A contented addition to a lovely tree. Four is the fourth I couldn’t resist. The 1981 Polaroid Sun 660; Autofocus with a minimum focus of 3ft, it makes me smile Another day, another bargain…

I am the key to the locks of your basement, girl. I am Spartan while you queer. To tangle amongst your reflections and a silent eye that silence minutes. Since you’re so hushed and I am gay. It should be safe to sleep and say amen. I am equitable to the reasons of your treasons, girl. I am the desperate system. To fit into most purse while you spell me a fever. Since you could bend your mind with spoons and I am climbing walls. It could be someone else in your cathedral. I am your concupiscence, girl. I am an animal. To glide down your pelvis and hide in a rusting telpher. Since you’re a revelation of my drugget and I am gay. It should be safe to sleep since you’ve prayed.

Love institutes in eccentric ways. To take time to navigate through your thought police. Candor and honesty. Honestly, to do you good these days… When the door’s ajar to jeopardy and transparencies. It’ll work out well. To take that plunge. For once to get it over with… Will you back me up? About anytime…