Tuesday, May 17, 2011


New slime video conferencing. Murder mystery
intolerably, messy and frightening. Had sat the
garden hose's mouth full of shark. Noisily butchered
over karaoke, silhouettes of orgasm droppings.
Reflecting us inside.

Depravity technician, empathy dynamite uncaring
churning – panders to the emotionally undone put
in you. The bird before it flies off, justified in
the automatic turd. What have you done? Wanting the
slashed throat whistle back in the doomed train set?

The trail of martial arts along the weeping wheelchair ramp.
Gut punch transcendence: strangely today, nostalgic
for bad taste supervillain waving his steak dinner
at the friendly atmosphere. Strangely, losing your dignity

Wii-pantomiming madness. Comfortable clothes
are flexible epilepsy – when suddenly the mouse trap
tastes all monk, puppetry wood rustling. A pitfall?
Has been choppy LSD badly, in a board game of All Wrong,

the family tradition gaping wide sparkling, light show phantom
roadkill, seething antiperspirant. All over the workbench.
A mortician's mind basement blizzard marauding pussy
but also playing the ukelele.

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