Tuesday, February 18, 2014

The Wizard

Nougat, but the ossified kind. Like white noise creeping,
but tangible. Raccoons turned to pulp, then reanimated in God's
cartoon hands. Their crimes embedded in the clown particle of fear-feces
that shrouds a continent. An old cathedral full of groaning senile thin zombie aliens
covered in pigeon droppings. Segways wormed awry into
gutter-simulations by SkyNet in “extruder mode,” robot lung
affected by wheelchair wind. Flappy tasered squid, flowers wedged
between cheeks. The wizard's proboscis homes in;
the heart symbol between bearded breasts, on a chain. Obscure.
I would really like the cowgirl treatment, please.”
In a gross dream about the woods - or woods in general – I had squeezed 
the wizard's balls; the BBQ slapstick had been haunted (reassuringly) by
an Amazon drone, theatrical. In the Louvre hangs a painting the size of an ice rink
riddled (fittingly) with 8-bit weather. Lava separating from the flayed
mug of SpongeBob “SkullCramp” SquarePants, like paint, running.
A person standing at the side of the road disappears. Sucked off
by the wizard.

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