Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Moms Against Gaming

Before the very very bright murderous thoughts, a dreaming 
claustrophobic violence lobe seethes the fear of women 
from the quiet long toaster of its dude-mold, 
horniness fever bandied about in instructional video drag, 
blog skin musk trailed moody fused to racism
as if in a bad bad eBook fuck-up,
logical fallacies summoned with hate as if in fright, 
scared of walking over to the Kool-Aid jug-romanticized 
to actually manually digit eyeballs,  

scared of breaking, 
wanting to break. 


Monday, December 29, 2014

Gmail

Mickey Mouse in anatomical hockey mask sticks a nail into a stress-relieving toy, nude, rat stomach transparent, veins weird, ears gross. Magical M&Ms become grass Kermit-like in the holes aliens left in the rapid eye movement of male tantrum, the asbestos gaze leashing the anime colossus of the robot lord’s gorilla remains legless to Martha. Mental doom entombs inspirational candy with the rancid beer physics of semen jeans and with the chimney science of cuckoo clock boners, snuggles bubbles into industrial refuse-warmers.   

Friday, December 26, 2014

If Santa Were A Jock

With the lights out, the action-lava of nostalgia smashes into a plateau,
into a grid touched by its jock sun, the firmament encoded into lulz
with the Jedi vibe of Reddit most foul, of gods enamored with my dump. 
I watched Goombas share a sleeping bag and forgiveness wander into gore, 
in the ER, hands on the funky chakras of a football mascot. 
The animated chatter of the reanimated corpse, though –
in the comments – can you feel Yoshi’s castles?
I have … seen things you people wouldn’t believe.
When I close my eyes, I still see stuff … Christmas circling back
to the blaster in a screenshot, glitching from hobo to robo – to bro –
spawning milkshake in its casual death, chiming relative
to its mortal throwback, adorable as jelly latching onto fear.    

Monday, December 22, 2014

mysterious night curve Friday in a boat
dry against dead scary cherry sank a big heart
bloated elderly Japanese static teddy leather

drain of mirrors furnace tomorrow blasts backwards
verboten major sticky strained Warhol’s swastika
Jesus mounting really hates humans
really leave who amongst the most damned lawnmower
as the brain morass fucks a girl

ugggghhhn 15 minutes of synthesized birdcage
little bunnies eeeeeee, whores as waterproof, giants, elusive
bring in the shake isolating deepthroat meaningful Axe
tomb pour O dicks shits
feel intrusive killing as well bleed out intrusive

worry anxious same goes itchy meta
rapping Reagan Oi since first wig caramel
screeches can’t burger asking if the system is fucked
imaginary lalalalala draws pawing dark metal
merry steak knife floods if glitter goes blank

Friday, December 19, 2014

data 2010 of
the normal beach bubble
blip-realm

towel tongue
jonesing for
innate popsicle

on a dime 
remixes LSD
to default goblin

of global
duck gray with….

cook pine
in pain

inject with….. 
shoot my dog

balls-deep in diaper
refashioned
shapes of sounds;

the stream opening
a subtext of exteriors

mono sky-eyes
full of blood –

bliss techniques
dribble marshmallow
midair Toyota
chevron twinkle with….

the jazz process
of your enemies
flashed
then stayed on:

Dali’s tears belched
from the slashed lens
of circle burn

blow job 3D-printed
King clockface
Aknefuk on
quaaludes in
ghoulish schmooze
with….

apathy FM-
unshuffles

the Manson experiment's
mousehead jizz
magic threat

Matches soft moon Stefan’s
matchbox glands
pussy foot 
baby blinder

splooshes dead pigs with….
the striations of torture
not always visible

Sunday, December 14, 2014

The Wax Fruit In Dune

weird worms go anywhere
like a penis, handcrafted Chuck-e-Cheese
lab spirit love glimpse via the wardrobe’s Mickey Mouse
ironically scraping poop off of antlers
circuits hark at the gift guide, interject with an exploding head
the darkest missing pet bastard inside out suit
spider solid math medley secluded in ugly sweater
penis tempest erect as the sisterhood rips it out
(swallowing the scream in the mug)
(suffering the egg timer’s thyroid chin)
for Linux butchers cheese, glittering bloody vape
crypto twitch digests MS Paint
eats heat thud alive via Agent Cooper’s fruit wax
the worms in Dune look like dicks, fossil aerobically
but their moving parts geek to the massacre
but big man x-rays at cop funerals set up counter-claw 

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Food

Zeus eats seafood through a mask of ocean gauze and that spray-wobble of food extraction is how ambient diesel relates to the brownie’s dark algebra connecting the car bomb to the limb’s iPhone case with the flavor of piano thought bubbles crunchy as souls captured in lunatic blotches of lobster torture and soft-porn boardgames decking the hallways of aquatic time’s strange light with the motion of mysterious flirting mauling puppies in God’s lap and chopping the conduit to its bleak expanse in a circus of bug debris as if in the wake of the Red Bull time-travel of a scarecrow with fucking fleas.  

Monday, December 8, 2014

The Devil Blocked Me

Squid kill deer as a 2001 space odyssey 
inks the pyramids and Chernobyl 
single-handedly fans a joint!
well now all the pics relax
and cry goop athrough balding eyes
your asshole tears a new you!

seethes death's negative energy
as wriggle becomes urban legend
and snapchat butters hat
surfs the full moon's log (in Hawaii) 
as funny abstract neurotransmitter 
tucks into urinals swollen with gnarl
and every oink oink in-between
super Mario hunchback as bacon knot
of police officer licks orphan!

As peace perpetuates gun
fire foams in horse bellyache!
Rocky's flipper, though
tooling Gatorade around in insomnia
as anarchy = Jehovah's witnesses
in tungsten dies alone, misunderstood
the Devil blocked me I can't #believeit!

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Untitled – Another Mutation

An ambulance out of nothing – out of hollow whale chained to crisp parking lot –
with a side of Steve Jobs's head in a bear trap, less an electron than
a regular plugin. Pug flesh combed by its soothing atom.
A homeless man sleeps beneath this monument to youth –
a mashup of regular flesh and bones – talking, talking; the IKEA stick a cop beat him
with gave him a sex change. A spreadsheet of this still languishes there as
a memorial of the time the robot bourgeoisie, wrapped in futuristic jaundice, began to
understand Marty McFly, who in a manly voice insisted: “Instead Skeletor –
though homosexual – should be TIME's most biological person of the year.”
Commercials spread thin behind 3D glasses on a troll's nose.
Progressively,” Walmart sexualizes the crooked spectrum with the zen of fermentation,
branding itself pro life, arming celebrity holograms with learning devices
to fight like regular babe magnets; their ghosts spit in the sand.
Nobody cares. 

Friday, November 28, 2014

Failson Autism

magnetic duct MMORPG undisguised dick echo
from unconscious supercomputer to Japan,
the queer blood Barbie colossus slick
spider paste peg streaming the monstrosity
with cephalic punch interface of sticky GPS, grainy dreams
now long overgrown dream-addled disturbed in
cop loneliness spews the blood, a dinosaur-pile feeling
from within a child's balls, crying the blood terminals
panda afterbirth in lawnmower static electricity
latch fussball hacked toilet dying on my bicycle...
I chug helicopter beefcake laughing subterranean acoustic
whip inverted, as you unite the demon copy ribbed laser sensitivity
dark jerking insanity of hipster missing narcissist
swells Pokémon pope tampon, zombie Bic spoon dusk
streams such pharmacopeias as road cone moon bling impact-werewolf
manslaughter obliquely, the clickhole bevy Linux breaks tits
tumblers shroud the best, acetylene drones like hell, Tokyo's bloodstain
gravity tush flower aesthetic and she kisses gangster stool in our mindblowing
dick's throat and I bloom dreadful, a nightmare fashioned
after earth-toned windex and the shame flexes the goat steel gamut

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Boogie Nights – Another Mutation

An internal object holds him down. It doesn't know what he is. As its orbital mystery, its tight lid, Krang knows what it is. The proclivity for gruesome overreach of its petrol cadence – a gray area poses as a portal, transforms into a bubble. A literal fume, worst anchor. He thinks, “I'm going to kill myself,” then hears voices behind him – Ernie, no, you can't, not here – and the very statement seems to cross a threshold. Solar blood. I am Krang, motherfucker. Figuratively, the goat in the display cabinet is inanimate, therefore embodies the Gospel; social nebulae filling its autism with bells – sensors discerning textures with a bacterial fisheye – it plays the lead role in Boogie Nights. “John Travolta” finally fucks a girl. Necrophilia, finally. Fever-ink traces mirror-ball architecture. Pigeons shit like chicken. A pox pops up, little non-biodegradable prisms ejecting the venom of the pivotal lump's void. I shit on my own shit. A fluorescent graph finds its tabloid tone, finally, like a tongue curtailing heavy piss. “[For which] I am going to Hell,” she tells [Ernie]. End of (a bad) movie. 

Monday, November 17, 2014

Loud Dildo

A doorbell resonates through tunnels like the slain flavor of malaise in comet camouflage. Oscillation laid pillow nodes cracked beneath the emoji of male birth control – that a chemical Columbine has a friend in the electrical bear breaks the internet. To make the physical wind's hate-finger FAQ discord on an open field with its dick, choose your own adventure right in the flux opera cookie cleavage station if you're a lady; the anus if you're a gentleman. Lest tinnitus GWAR audiences full of Microsoft, a future gameshow robo-enigma must mangle the dildo's skeleton and the dildo's repellent defense-skin. 

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Nude Dads

a pointless! head
do you ever? delete tweets
the! child is so fucking small

you can't even put a small toy on
its head

hocus (pocus)

amounts to cooking
a chainsaw –
to razing a car,

a rash

or to having once stood
in stubble

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Fuck Yeah Mom

the fuck video game
Oreo of Tarantino
white, male, alien leaked threads, self-aware,
extending hatred

I am the
last homophobe

the Cookie Monster mass shooting
started to disappoint the hippie:

I stick the ghostly mess post-apocalyptic in a calcified host
fruition circling the cookie console describes a narcissistic suicide

the brunt of an Euclidean vibe averts Muslim social media
like a rejection-python, high jinks-shrouded –
former pieces formed pierce
ears

ahhh rummage bald;
in beta YOLO
a bladder fizzles
introspectively,
steam stems from panic

foaming at the
girl grave

an Ikea-dimension
inspired the tableaux-cut:
the pillow fart of passing Kool-Aid
disappeared through a jar as

if face-flossed at a D&D swimming lesson
the dead man paring karate with paralysis,
fuck yeah mom, Helter Skelter,
jpeg 

Friday, November 7, 2014

Symptoms of Death

Paper is evergreen, with candleneck stuck up the theoretic lightbulb.
A Japanese sprite’s fear of shopping awakens a bias for cuddly stuff.
For where he pees, the woods bury Andrew. Insects KKK HIV.
At a party, clean puke’s 80’s inertia;
dirty death in the face of a sleeping bag’s port.
A gorier mom would’ve cleaved your dad’s diseased beer-projector.
Satan swings buckets of waterlogged sexts, in Minecraft,
weeping – on the very spot where a corpse sucks the mortician’s dick
smiling tiny fast smiles because
apart from the obvious splashback
symptoms of death include the turbo-smile
in miniature, psychosomatic red balls
and a violently ripped off breast –
bummed out snakes splattering around in glacier fluids
as green ground-shift eats itself. 
Anxiety in a continuation of robots blending among ghosts.
Radio to the point of overkill.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

disco ball entropy’s core gravy particles bled like a Steve Buscemi mask from concrete’s magma-face, it’s porn season in the fat modular city, the killer song’s junk cubes are fuzzin’, clocks inside tulips get completely grayed-out with electromagnetic gum, babies’ grim ass murals get ripped off on YouTube by low life lizards, in hacker coveralls the archeological raccoon is hanging out with friends in the Walmart shade under the influence of a drug, tending to tulips that are permanently in the throes of becoming their own pimps, Santa with full moon balls laughs haiku-wet, app-abuse, a clamp for life for a bad family and its gimmick cat

Friday, October 31, 2014

rot suffers the Pac-Man horror-constant
in the eye of the last giant asshole breathing blackinternalchaos:
glitch-sick mongrel physics power-melt into hauntedhouse head lakes:
spinal teeth split beds through clothes tyrannical men
wear jagged, the fresh-puppy fallout of Karma’s goiter-
ground rising up ant farm-style as dribbling, closer masses
chain-sweating their dreamlike sour in infinite mishap.
mashed up eye-patterns licker, hobo Christ, beholder –
sewer shapes trapped in the cold lane’s
headachefest whose decapitations thrust leather holes
into creatures doomed by sharpie to the expressionless madness of
a random maggot deity hung on helium magic
from a disembodied heart

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Pus Lad

Shame is a feather. The radar of it squirts fuses
with a hedge that thrashes beneath the skin pulled off
Jar Jar Binks by the war parents – a marionette’s
dead leg in the mouth of a holy cow biting down
with a guffaw’s kick-ass suction. Anyway, the splurge
would have Maureen eclipse scarier lad pus.
A lens turns to stone pitted by the crap clown
like a mole screaming in chimerical gravity,
bisecting the crawlspace of its swinging rainbow’s
black immersive dust’s subtler Meaning
for the Complaints to pour out like sand. Meaning
only Homer’s amorous chromosomes wheel
hypnotically to her now.
So a cop castrates himself. I’m performing
vulture metaphysics on a stuck ratchet, heh. Curses.
Oh, into what had the wizard slid? Sighs.
I like it here. I bought truth in experimental tungsten, hehe.
Nauseatingly, it has self-deleted itself. Looks around.
Thriving, I couldn’t remember forging the weight of
all this piss in the lampshade...

Saturday, October 25, 2014

good fog machine fist full of dick per restraining order
fixation meta discordant with toxic throb
worries the bludgeon into sandwich flashback
disengaged nothingness from its sack
dripped off the cartoon home planet’s plug
segued into violence
and robot-like got laid
acid serial skunk blink guitar diaper squishy knots clone
cheek flesh of a terrarium’s soft spot, leftovers an elbow is in
densely truncated beauty nullified seamless
hooks warped in mutant wifi yogurt blackout
heartfelt as star goo’s sunny bat ovens
dickhole cataracts clouding pop
slipping paired with spray
good dick fist fog machine restraining order
meta discordant toxic throb fixation
bludgeon worry sandwich flashback
disengage nothingness sack
drip off the cartoon home planet plug
segue into violence
get laid robot-like
acid serial skunk blink guitar diaper squishy knots clone
leftovers the elbow is in cheek flesh terrarium soft spot
densely truncated beauty nullifies seamless
hooks warp mutant wifi yogurt blackout
heartfelt sunny star goo bat oven 
dickhole cataracts clouding pop
spray paired with slipping

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Not Good Bright Light Bad For Bare Legs

A naked woman sits atop a giant CTR monitor
In the ad, a chicken zooms transhuman through the malignant cable
Growing cock stinks, then eclipses the haunted cathode
The cawing of big data in an immaculate gym
A whole lot of sperm threatened by crying
Nerf balls unbunlding behind the eyes, fucking with you
Czar-like, a two-legged Telecoms stereotype afflicted with the paint-sag of ghostly fireworks
Santa climbs down areola chimneys
White trash screaming and knives ensue around a Christmas tree
Also hell-shame within the wildly cursed guts, wrapped in the dragon organ of his coat
Swoosh of stiff gore, then Joe’s orgasm
Dachshund jizz is the boring spirit molecule of Google’s not good bright light bad for bare legs
As a buzzing glob of death comprised of secret variants of internally damaged mushroom
As an ingrown pile of shit the crematorium conceals as a popping swamp of misfortune
The Sims excised from human waste the emotions of a lovecop, of Jesus Christ
Synonymous with Doctor Who fucking anacondas in mosaic Burger King blue
Deepening when nailed to a cereal box
Love app stitching ripped contracting into fins

Friday, October 17, 2014

Modern Chemical

A marsupial haunts the street corner. The snake mouth-breathes
after puking. Victims of a Star Wars way of life.
Artificial intelligence stimulates a flash of pastoral sauce;
volleyball and its hubbub; little tweets by a drone inside a crate.
It’s a spectrum that will unhinge its darkness, only to let it lie prone
in the worst sandbox – a cactus in its concept cage, a shopping trolley
and its embedded wolf. Both perched somewhere in the dark theater,
game faces on, glimmering like garbage.
Moon-aesthetics tracked through the museum
by my boots. As Ghostbusters we carefully weigh
our vacuum tubes, socially, love straws though
which a cheap simulation of care may be
sucked extinct. But sleep’s gun
is a spooky banana – I’d damaged a restaurant
by microwaving foliage in a normal oven,
releasing the modern chemical.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Welcoming Committee - Another Mutation

help, kill yourself, at least until it’s over – kill
me: onward touching-smiling like expanding paste,
the wily ramifications of Beavis steeped
burning in paradise residue, pesky caring
as intrinsically coercive, 10.123456 really
omnipresent scars, wanting something somewhat
semipiously, the hole of a skeleton, beforehand
picked inside-out – a feasible lobster –
lets a dead background conflate with
our sexiness anywhere, fanned throughout
a funny critical mass and helps the creepy
edifice fray outasight, as you and I are not
welcome here…

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Counting To A Million

I hate counting to a million.
The way constipation squeezes a carcass as a composite of shit-vibrations, as ornamental magma.
Rockets drip till morning.
I hate it.
Hard on my tits as despair’s voodoo swatches.
Tissues fit a lump of dust like a glove.
Butthole hate won’t exorcise a brown, softly vulgar head from the lawn’s animal hair.
Help my chunk flirt.
Raw brains refine and pump life into stuffed animals, as Jesus once motorized sleepwalking –
A monster once exclaimed – “Yeah, hold my cock – !
“I found the easiest exit wound.”
“Thumbnail coated in vagina acne, dread gnawing at jab pouches
Cuckolded by pure dong lining – shedding, popping when rubbing against penis acne.
Which then also pops.
Speaking in tongues won’t mask your laughter.
WHO THE FUCK AM I BONING!?
What is my cup of tea and what is an egg doing in it, splitting crime’s joint in a dungeon sealed by the morning’s urine lasers.
As orthodox rabies, home to the hug.

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