Friday, September 14, 2012

BUDDING

From being tickled again, some coagulation would later
occur again. Like nodes stressed under mysterious subliminal
budding, droplets would pupate on my legs. A pinball's number of
increments networked, reconstructed as an “L”. Likewise
an “R.” Bunnies limit my diabetic coma's acoustics.
The tooth in the feather duster did nothing wrong.
I made a sound recording of my plow both while
rehydrating upon a struck vein and while churning independently
of the earth. If death squads are soluble around jukeboxes,
why wouldn't ordinary social behavior endure storage?
Nothing can remedy the matter: you're sinister because
you remain pristine amid food fights. The rat's asshole
is unborn, it says on an ad banner. The adorable splash of
rough edges is simply a prototype. Computers digest in
low-budget blitz, with a 'Welp'. Do you think tragedy is lame?
Asteroids try to rely on levitation as their proudest, biggest effect.
They yield the stains of brain waves. Acres of gulps between
gaps on this weird algorithm's guided tour, in a condom's eye line.

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