Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Fly Bottle

A sadist's mess at the ingratiation stage
nobody wants to have to splice
in white echolocation coloring
with your seagull extractor,
cumulative flange lick waver
cheese dick stubble myself without a stitch,
boil up the shrine neck hot up in the slug heater
in its original incarnation: shame squid in hand.
the memories a fly bit
compromised glomp solid
in a bottle,
truth webbing a million hits cord
the strict stepdad strippaaaaaa
splash-convergence in his third
eye recession.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Oral Golf

The heartbreaking slapping of the orgone field generator
on completion of a revolution in cozy shades of Hell a real
bummer tickling the windmill stripe no star chased with killer instinct swallowed crooked.
The dark eruption of my buddy proves charisma a social choker the bane of heroin
in an Ipsos study of piss in cow eyes dinosaur-deep throated wizard
arms the swan just dumps - clothed in blazing anti-mind control aluminum foil
just for a hug. Keep an eye on your own brain. Blood of shit podcasts
from scratch when Fred Spectra throws the bird dick of self-hate yoga pinned to a socket...
Now scared robots @ reply with their cat hooks and girls with fake accents arrive
at the Dogmatix oh my gosh deep wound into darkness... diminishing beaks nail
the holograms twisted to the bulging field of vision forget the bitter sugar-thighs get back
to the back of your own head erratic saw adding flamethrower bent on Dr Who's evacuation from his hollow boulder, the same fucking dentist's rotting bags of weird C02 crashing blurry yet barely bearable gestate in gasps and grasps, bouncing unsexy, the archival golf that killed romance novels, an abusing kind of one

Friday, December 4, 2015

Resurrection Pump

Victim extorts adenoidal raisin Mickey Mouse.
Feces acts as setup for joke liftoff.
Ripped pants simultaneously mixed with the unfamiliar.
Adopt any matter regarding social media.
To the dilating gun a scary concept
The dirtiest liquids with the structural beer of blood.
Alcohol to assess the supposed sour sex with walls trope.
The maggots of airborne viruses unknowingly worship data.
Bought Coldplay (of course a facsimile edition)!
A negative smile has surfaced.
Sex trafficking chemicals aroused by emergencies.
Humanoid computer pizza emotional-grade negative.
To share sordid background tissue.
The non-GMO space station is in a panic.
In a Russian gay club delight is inevitable.
Party atrophy retardant of dark extreme fucking
earthquake editing the young rich violating
the spike in the shower of the coldest
Plants splattering blood on ass-
details vary so in strange-colored pupils
as to conflate TV with the skull fabric of the awful reality
that emerges from the shadows like the dead on
Big Brother bothered by the pump of resurrection,
everywhere everything.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

The Black Friday Ferret

A dirty mind as complicated as the snapchat sheriff's will:
a three-way sea eats both and falls on top of them like a prostitute.
A ferret cursed their bedsheets into large carnival tombstones.
Shit in Donald Trump's hair and killed a puppy.
Channeled the pigs' tangible faggot obsessions
through static electricity's split atoms.
Invented the Black Friday lie to reptilian crackers,
figures with the eyes of the dead.
Flesh separates from bones sitting in a chair.
The white flesh of a cat walks over a rose DeLorean
driven like scrap into the power-marsh of paradox
and its magic subway underneath that superheroes
go to to go crazy in in secret.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

The Minions Of Eden

Like little lovers of disaster dowsing for stone, the Minions'
clothes have darkness inside, their fav counterpoint of suggestion
on the periodic table of food - birdman's power-orange - squeaks in
the hand of the woman: you can forget Eve clutching at pines in the Rorschach monster truck.
Clockwise cremation cancelled taking off their clothes,
switched horse skeletons burying ever-hidden meanings in the para-sandwich of the story ....
Honey pendulum lowered, being naked in front of a CD player
twirling would help the psychological tail
find possessions not easily found in the dark
stuck peering happy through ink, the warm fever
of the psychic terror of the Victorian inanimate
of the phone's heart-center sacrificed in a compassionate smudge
of wisdom: "We're here baby"

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