leftovers between toes=pardons

tit for tat and supposed enterprises mark me as a useful womb for transporting unpursued embryo's... The heat has subsided to five fetus each cornered a comic, a novel, tid bits of song and poetry. The 5 th seems to linger pulling my neglect into superior excuses useful justfications even... If i were to combine imagination w/ technolingo would my leftovers contradict the spirit of my created scenario. This is my adaptation story potential...