Strangling tele-puke with a Telecaster
is exactly like draining a glove. I mean, why shoot, thanks.
Popped bloodstreams, repeating indigoid.
Numerous quit, helped fast far over
dangerous head smells outside around
next along. Too close together, welcoming &
chiming on my space chair.
Whale song that tells me
what the television is doing
breaks, like a witch blanking the beefiest frog.
Indeed, willing, optional fan art, on the floor,
mashed fountains, difficult in the dark.
Accessed viscera quirk crocodilian quack,
bludgeoned to trash tripedal-tailed.
Manga Smithers enters green void:
driving like an idiot. Distortion pedal to
the metal. The lattermost email tool alternates
between goatish and fancy nonsense
attached to the ejector seat
attached to orchids that choke e.g. a condom.