Pulchritude

The birdless place the Greeks named it. Insufflation of you know what. Followed quickly by some drone, some doctor, now that you mention it, bearing the proverbial cup on a silver filigree stem. I'll try a drop of that. The hoarse divinities would parade before the inventor of butterfly wings. No subtext here, people are naked. Bartering with the guileless do I even want to know? Three little ghostesses Sitting on postesses Eating buttered toastesses Greasing their fistesses Up to their wristesses.