Monday, April 23, 2012


The zombie's tragic accident with which detonator
its butthole gained a different arthritis high resolution,
narrowing the mall multiverse by a slaying terrible at bagels,
knots air, at random skeletons, rolled bald high onto the
dispersion of locations, less acceptable bubbles from
clubbing baby seals than from mere handling with human hands,
Soviet-style delving the abandoned wastes of rodent equality in
my fire-breathing mobile home, its burps nail flowers,
and that the prostitute with me is a Pokemon is not a factor,
a post-apocalyptic marionette, a carcass heavier from eating
the dead space before it, gymnastic cattle that can only be
decapitated impractically, in the adjoining kitchenette.

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