Thursday, June 5, 2014

Umbrella Crust

I felt poliowood
and wanna minimize Windows O-face
still-warming in agonyliver
with objectively not much inside
or what feels like the Kindle
that sadness corduroys
Zentaped in dungeon hair
enlightenment, an interpretation
exorcized from horsemeat
and cutting down the whitelight
of its blinding, linear dust-migration
Like swerving for a deer in
the road, a lot of damage
not done in not hitting
Garfield with his colostomy bag
shedding skin, sending
umbrellacrust into kooky orbit
masturbation-recirculated scabies
and bubbles in eyebrows 

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