I lose hair in a trance. I then pay bogus money to get rid of this head of
recursive frisbee taint. The bane of flower petals not sitting flush.
Humpty Dumpty's scientifically impossible nipple ring
glances his lobster windpipe, which looks more worn with
each eerie, doorag-inverting exhalation and each chugging,
Accidental religion under Airwolf's morgue hood.
Lumpy drips abracadabraed by the wifebeater of an aroused/accursed wife-beater.
The loose gravel proliferating around its Emo pump.
Proving memes have the lifespans of rubble.
And bear suits full of cum are a foible of the slave hordes,
long after their collective fungal bathroom fluff had clogged the gills eroded
into the cardboard cliff cutout in front of the villain's stuffy lair they
helped reticulate full of detours apropos of nothing. Shadowed roadworks,gash-like in the glare of the kidnap-ambulance...