Find us on Google+ my wits' ~ licentia vatum: t'rash


t'rash 'n t'rubble

her guile o' teen, executing the chip of the old block, the chip on her shoulder, but the thin end of the wedge to her vexed mood surfeit
How my achievements mock me! -- Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Act IV

cul de sac, strike a crushing blow for falsettos, and caste stratus all around the globes. #CastratisStandFirm

you can eat my orts

Bush's been whacked, sky nods gravely; the godinner

Honey Ball Lack Tar ~ sigh lints off the lamps

till death us do, rent

fare the wuck does it all come from? Meats be

re-fused, wired to the amp, all resistors was futile; it blue and diode

sm'oke like a fish, drink a chimney ~ I defile my body, nor mind, no more. I'm simpling a yappy casket-base

munchausen syndrome by proxy. you eat it

If language's not precise, what's said is not what's meant, then, what ought be done stays undone

tic-talk, tic-talk...non'plus arrhythmic

soccer/urology, "balls no longer require a bladder". 'void a double entendre lying prostrate. a double-cross. mind your p's & q' the r's

to esteem any man at the foot of a history of that its equal trampled under is, the esteem surpasses, is idle worship ~ for (Dr) Neil Aggett

eye don't pork anyone, my gourd has a beef with it yet to surf ace -- Will be done; e[r]go afreud

hollow in the coffee-table upon, glass-top brokenly gone, forsaken fascia board, raison d'ĂȘtre "The Dress Centre", newly laid, re- so- born.

pen, ta; tonic's five notes

mare 'reech is a wore of a twee shin'; hoary

gourd a case of riccofery: whine, woe men & song

The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated. -- Oscar Wilde

scri blur'b' yon d' ruh'f

don' go, f'cough ~ me'qui, kin qi...king key, keen quoy

mock a sins...

air vaunt guard. eh voc ays'ion, eh vo cadr'o

bray'f heart

bic qid at he'art

non prax 'ti sy ring' ay thee erst -- wile (wil ye coy oat. E)


pore lee furl'r rue'firs', do furs

prit' gir'ds my loins

nut bush ditty lur' mits..take a h'ike, ooh tini? purse or'f 'no l'ike 't ina tin'

i sew tyred,y!fi pool me aught mai nu qui lars nigh.t

w'hole tow'l, tol'

masquerade, mess curate

mar'rage, 'er'muse mint