Faded Houses Green

Recurring dreams of recurring cream became a recurring theme for the hottest television show of its day.

Laying aside the lying awake with a lei around his neck, Benedict said a prayer for lying laymen in the laying up of hay that was lying around the ground with a pound of feathers and a pound of rocks pounded into the clay of fortitude–but Benedict had no clue what to do with the blue hues of cue balls lining the walls of distant stalls of horses awaiting their hay for the day of deliverance. May you or might you frighten the heightened sense of forgiveness where transductance is concerned, were it not for the urn of Benedict’s churn drifting along the wrong way into the curse of time, just watching the river flow.

Benedict tried the last lever, but the recurring cream lied about laying bricks, and the theme evaporated into thin hair.