To the things the samurai allows
to resonate, monochrome rough.
Curls for safe sex. Its weird
robotic craving self-inflicted:
like corn's grotesque middle,
a hive with zero bark.
The herd's haircut is a serious
Neutrality fell in its own trap
trying to wedgie heavy machinery.
Permeates the parking lot,
which is sticky both sides.
A hurtling birthday wrecks space.
Puked up numbing. The
TV intestinally hunched over.
A darker contagion passing through
town; i.e. KFC's alligator psyche entering
my exquisite colostomy bag.
Jerky Angry Birds fossil needs
the whole Ice Age
stuffed angrily with it, at a party.