Wednesday, May 13, 2015

TSA Hedonism

Handing the ass to her draws it pegged from an instrument.
I make myself crazy before the salt changes shape.
Throwing up sauna pus in the rain, she has weeks to think about this.
Giant squid chops not including a cord should be good. 
But the cortex is gonna be great, neurotic and aggravated.
And soda pop frazzled in a little killing.
Cornball antimatter handed my ass back in a little Matrix.
Professionally manic, loose DNA in a spot of dopamine.
A pretty monumental flower of the bird beak. 
Pervert pet-owner fingerprint tremors brush her buddy like three dudes.
I’ve never met rubber showing themselves a human in the shadow of shoegaze.
In the bone cloud of a rainbow wedgie massacre, her doll man looming by himself.
Why not moving chemicals polluting donut hair.
Stop-motion switchblade of the supermarket Mad Hypnotist.
Earlobe cum CGI baby-eating the charming Guitar Hero. 
Maybe a TV remote unveiled the hedonistic rotunda of TSA ass.
Burning beer cans in a mirror ball dumb gestures down to a superficial train.
Separation with a spaghetti pole involves a fox hunt.

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