Friday, January 3, 2014

The Exorcist – Another Mutation

Linda Blair felt closed in by the mirror. Scumbucket.
Her question to the 1c mystic seer
had disturbed a footlong in cryo sleep, Subway-grim;
inflatable thrasher, distant spanner.
Salt in the wounds of a prawn.
Yes, the Y chromosome is a jar full of vintage cunt-fear.
As a rustic amoeba, breaching the city limits hurt;
from within a makeshift black lagoon
its stalk thus pushed away the room's white lighting.
Its hybrid beef jerky spirit animal thus pushed through
the urban witch's scissors headlessly, smearing rabies as
quickly as it could; turbo-fiddly. Grilled to heavier powder in 
preparation for heavier hoovering. 

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