Tuesday, September 20, 2016

When you're my cousin, so tall every cloud starts spinning, so strong the canopy of
birds tips, every woman becomes angry, and maybe it applies to all silent killers,
frozen without face, the terror of clowns lost in space scarier than crapping uniquely unmatched acquired, resistance to newfound egg set up by the teleprompter's waterghost
bombing Fritz masturbating, in the animated short that evokes no escape deepest,
whom Jumanji green-product-threatening broadband the same personal cucumber
can't, full of crumbs, internally home 3D print to stay down, also just, alas also the
curse of fitness tracker noisome with genital shaped wild taste of scones, pissed, blowing
up failsons, Alex Jones hands back hex nut spacer to Nessie just sitting there nylon black
will be your brother in Scientology, surprisingly weird, laughing, when you're sad, sexy, the days of North Korea's biggest meow can tell when you're a tough sex offender, with
wisdom & speculation, retarded, still banging, admitting history of John McAfee is just natural, just like celebrities breaking up, eating sticks with Sophia Loren in lucid dream, shaking your head with the suppleness of lost control, sun and moon almost ended up like the screw in shit, human-powered unauthorized porn before the Vatican buried local teens copying words, the avant garde failing to mask contempt in six seconds, enough ink dries, the arctic evening stroll on the asteroid the symbol integrated into tattooed sunburn on drugs and horror lights' time to shine, everything inside nihilism laundering crude erupting brown, and bug back from the dead spooking paper's rigidity lacing long ass particles, you need them to get laid in the cosmic slap in the face, feel the comfort mode of Jesus, bitch, dark web working on impulse now, the doom of learned consciousness scummy as the rebirth, implies possession, and I mean fucked up images words sound
solicited Freud alive in a cyborg parody of ecstatic annihilation swelling up to your uggs,
pursing in support of demon Shakespeare getting the medium to triumph in the
prettiest dead cat, clear breath crackling, to have fun is quite an exit. 

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