Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Vampire swipes away book that compares Ascension's tranquil biting point to any random source of Hepatitis in disgust – through negative Google Image search conjures higher consciousness moving condom lanterns not in use over shrinking vision. “This isolation will surely soothe my stomach” – Shout out to tear in crotch-mounted reptile jeans which absolutely godzillaed my voice's manly appeal right in the Empire's pulled motor oil rolled curvy into blowhole's thistle-induced gibber barely releasing teen pole – stick bird's puffed-up ego ruffled by magnesium worm, insect-occupied bathing suit growing knees out of rare tree. Ivan's crooked algorithm boils magnet – flowing graffiti depicts rapist's suicide on lawn covered in magazines in transcendental living room reinventing synonym for Benghazi. Threatening fervently in library's snot-drome across hand-drawn board game, dangling from miracle spray-on-flavored parachute which heaves beneath carnivorous home decoration, mutually exclusive Neanderthal told to “Take care of this X-file for me, will ya? You're in it” says “Eat dust-food, kindhearted psycho-snake”.... If my son didn't want forest green in his room, I'd have pumped all of my hate group ad spending into a dead Jello-O brain scan look, you can't say it ain't weird. “I swear by the rubble in the desert,” real media guru who can make you existentially smile again, says, “the raunchy steaming joke that made our ancestors laugh is the real ghost in the story.” 

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