Thursday, May 28, 2015

Lay down mea culpa in the silver time-lapse of a good oyster UFO finish, rotten to the core from self-infliction at the feet of the evil spirit of the mountain. From the grave, chimpanzees reveal an affection for latex, via a rodeo of beautiful vaginal dream pinboard – if men had the endearing foam, death mesh soothing pig flowers at the frightening high frequency of warlocks stitching up the queer dungeon under the skin; ass-off dissonance magic, a vulgar novelty invading hell, marionette-charm in lab horror hair sinks into diabolical transparency, spectacularly cutting open the practitioner’s spittoon, balls rotted with abandon in a multiverse simulator, bad blood encased in a wrist.  

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