Thursday, April 17, 2014

Star Pus

The mindblowing sponge of snowboarder-crotch. A cute floating pumpkin.
Conflating a missing cereal box character and its cozy blog-surface.
Higher. Deteriorating from a tacit RPG into a cocain-fueled FAQ.
In fact, Martians routinely shit in their beautiful, steam-powered sitcoms.
Fan cadavers with money. Peel Skype's egg-viewpoint.
Everywhere, Jesus dams up in jugs.
Winter-bloodstains, turned to dust on eerie pizza-excerpts; powdered anxiety, defacing the sasquatch-door...
The fishmen and the fishwomen won't weaponize weed today. With a silly computer.
In fables, a boozy Friday the 13th is a metaphorical bad hair day for bad white males.
Uh, the galaxy's at the barber –
Astringents drip into galaxy-follicles ... a new, bald white whale!
Screams. Squeezed-star pus.
Lab-grown Lego as alternate KFC.
As an outlet for hatred, RoboCop Wilhelm-screams, in general.
Christmas-lasers maul a family at the mall, in particular. 

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