Monday, August 20, 2012


With a superpower of old-growth its bite
felt fully clothed. Helium cleared the shark's
strands of dead-inside. And its claw
mushroomed. Well, you must have good taste
before you can perform surgery.
Entertainment is squeaky around a regular
appendectomy. We are all entertained around
a regular bug. Our hairstyles are all clamps. But
luckily our genes leave our skulls unaltered;
only as babies and as chocolate do skulls
usually make the perfect additive, raided
by terrorist groups; animated when close
together. Terrorists' terror of photosynthesis.
Of nature's purple nod. Rotten eggs flash
when changing hands. The goblin appears
so natural. Awakening with the impact of
entropy, which digs gruffly putting you aside.
When I casually put anything aside, it makes a
zapping. I want a regular bug. It's a risk to want.
I can so easily want the whites of an alien's
eyes squashed in a cave. Come, spindly earthquake.
Stop, horror movie about awkward rag doll-
hunting Tampax. Or go, up to you. Over there,
in which the supernatural is being so terse.
It's application evincing cough syrup on a
random steak. It forms a field. The most conducive
environment for aerobics-spigot interface.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Search This Blog