Friday, February 11, 2011

MOUSE CORSET

I think the mouse corset may be on the greatest animal in the world right now – i.e. the mouse
it knows that to glow with happiness is to be in a mashed potato state of mind
from this moment on, we’re therefore quickly beginning to weary of recommending us some Bruce Lee
his little pink nose sniffing around in transgendered vacuums – ribs bent in the shapes of hourglasses – it truly floats around like DNA crackles...

now if you push hard enough, it WILL become cannibalism
the way this went down: the soft blanket ate grass and it was one of those gloriously sunny days for allergies
belligerent happy endings
grim shortsightedness and opossum myopia – the ability to loathe salt into your rock

bitch says Louis Vitton is not a helpful bitch and makes me wish I was
wish I was one of those big honking beautiful bitches found in elephant nebulae; wish I was rewarded a weird type of hanging in the East known as “proboscis suicide” because it would be funny and relevant 
what funny relevance usually plays off in Farmer Brown’s stables – while in the back of his mind he just knows the beard of the Internet is turning hard with keyboard puke –
“Is this what they call finger trespass?”

“I’m Farmer Brown: my credentials are a metal horsebit in stroboscopic epilepsy!”
while in the back of his mind: thinking about Jonas my idiot stable hand his awesome hand jobs his occasional bouts of epilepsy the subsequent embarrassment subsequently leading to mass elephant trunk-self-throttling

she says she’s saving it for “instinct”
we agree not to rekindle the marionette
coughing as its ropes and sticks sigh sawdust
as far as strange love goes, the penicillin zipper is a poor imitation referring to the view of the mushroom tombstone from space
and you will be glad to learn that it’s possible to find even weirder fungi:

Pope-blood’s tracksuit on fire opening the plague’s vents
metabolism harassed by skeleton crows about wearing its cheerleader’s broken neck as a baseball cap 

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