Friday, August 5, 2011

DEAD BABY

Incubator of disposable baby parts.
Dead fibers' perturbing contraction.
Graphic zoom smokes out nasal passages.
Spoon with puffer fish.
Burp the drapes.
Copy and paste pancake-extract.
The mechanics of flicking my ear with its tongue.
Pharmacological caveman.
Experimental biology stirring on the sofa.
Encapsulation of gore drinking out of.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

NIGHT NOISES

Between her Nokia and universe-sized
epiphany lies an ear-full of interference.
An emergent tick stuck in the brains of a clock.

Countless hours of Dungeons & Dragons
and you learn that sometimes
it's good to subject your snail to the following –

what's full of what's normally not seen boiling in coffins:
the rainbow in the midget's hair
or a stream of Mars rot.

A dried cup-o noodles for antlers to get shrubbed in.
A shadowy grin hopping around on the chupacabra's face,
its bunny suit psychosis hungry for frogs
peddled from a small-town trunk.
Night noises trapped in a ninja's towel.

ELF YOURSELF

The hiss of windmills
is integral to the landscape –
radiation from an ancient pinball disaster.
The blackhearted orange
wrung from something squishy.

When nature calls, Kleenex
configures itself into an optical illusion.
Buying a Mars Bar and knitting its peel;
members of one shady fringe will
pour the dead tissue into a dumpster...

Elf Yourself sweatpants
the casserole wears as sacred aura.

We all stood watching aghast – as the
action figure flung glowing poop.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

SUPERMAN'S HANDWRITING IS UNREADABLE

I loved the Tooth Fairy even after learning
it was in the habit of clothing itself in goatse.
I could see even after geysers of human nature
dimmed the toilet. My face suddenly erupted in
LED whiskers – and I could sort through the immense
paper work even while transmuting into an invertebrate weed;
one with the wrong sort of mental health.

Something has gone to my head. I
shouldn't have eaten all those hot hairspray glands.
I was drawn with dabs from Godzilla's fingerprint palette.
During some sneaky interlude, I must've devolved into a giant
sperm plug carried by winged fungi high up
into the air and dropped down onto a rapist's head.
Good: let all his thoughts turn into fat non-categories.

With corpse-hinge seeking Kinect edification.
Sawing through Band Aid wearable
confetti that turns the aquarium
milky. Flees seeking treatment for depression in hysterectomies.
Superman writing incoherent obituaries
in the childish hand of the millions of unborn.

Monday, August 1, 2011

IMAX

Her bones completed by
more variables of pins,
a body parts spectrogram
and a motivational sticker.

An electronic knob's
cheap tone bled
by the dominatrix's pulley.

Lego gears putting the seam in break
dancing. A drop-of-blood-resuscitated
alien. Exposes the lurk in the vigilante –
either the visual cortex's clown mask sewage snorkeling;
or clubfoot make-upping.

The sentient bathroom
mirror dialed. Bizarre requests
to search engine. Listen if you

have a shy bladder you're gonna
need what's called a “pee buddy” -
I so happen to know an excellent therapist
who rents out blind/wall-eyed ponies.

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