Saturday, June 24, 2017

I suspect the kernel in the half-full stomach under attack from microbes excites the aging replicant. Fake memories shouldn't dim sideways for a peek inside himself in self-flattery – nor should there be a difference, between exploiting the Alan Turing discotheque dramatically and knitting avant garde cocktail form shark veins severed tube-like in disarray. On his amazing adventure, Mad Max solicits for the nightmare donor, expanding her gloomy junctions on Gotham corn. Apes fulfill their exorbitant rage cladding like preachers, whetting coke flexible for the flies waddling subway flaccid, yet unbreakable – slashing unspeakable, in-real-life reality codes unraveling the Facebook. You realize you've had the terrifying history in your pocket; the miserable iceberg of modernism snapped the corpse thrown down wet into healing concrete like a frog sitting on a limp space suit, plunged sipping off recycled geostationary signs that swerve into core's churning threat of laptop cleansing potato red. Meaning moths go hard, like robo mass murderers, for toxoplasma gondii in the raindrops behind the firewall. This is no fiction. From the natural wings of a vegetable, dirty paws that press the subscribe button forwards and backwards emerge.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Beards pontificating on Google car bomb app slappy with extra bullshit silence consciousness and haven't the infrared packed in screenshots of China Open cracking sneakers polymath kinda like the Elvis of tennis becuz sumo spine's mutation of sweet spot across garbage can etches fringes with testosterone from how X-ray dream gives vertigo too long to give shameful keytar a fuck and bounce dystopian back 2 shits slowing down stamp directly referencing body annihilation when the sex is great collapsing solar eclipse into the lawn I chop up while sometimes fantasizing about jackin all the time saying “you shall not pass glacier interstellar retarded guy coats with piss well Ok maybe making peace with Google was hearing both sides of death's thicker nachos being crushed beneath the spirit's own erratic floating meaning to bask like a boss you do have to live in and belong in a museum too perfect a scary ghost for wearing that granola shade of bees escaping frying pan subliminal as the flower in Banksy's Kalashnikov tired as fade spacing ass message she got me the best way to deal skeletal with this spreadeagled in impartial arrangements popped up as in a patchwork of blackened pollen of one's own brain remade as I come across buried alive in order to see more with eyes in autoimmune jelly of solstice such as could raise the most bus which it has the whole Alpha Centauri to ignore me in like that's your fingers standing apart like sand enduring landfill amended to freezer like a pyramid the gods use during one-night stands like a fucking boss to capture sick Matrix in infinite chain that impacts statue like a hammer with too long a chomp for magic mushroom compacted real good to look at causing lactation through seizures in caterpillar whose missing bits might be replication wounds Ridley Scott's Engineers stab passage through sequenced in secret room searching for waves stranded like a carpet of chemtrails dragged tongue in cheek over crunched organ instead of ever being balanced for outdoor events whereas it is the other way round.

Monday, June 19, 2017

The Upholstered Crystal

Throughout, the national park of Hell's coral reefs 
under-appreciated as hell. Austin Powers mad
as Alex Jones - some of his words fux with his flock, 
mine my blood and narrate my blog a week from the 
bong attack's cataclysmic echo salving, in a beam of 
mystical Moebius, ill lovers who through microwaves 
in reclusive machismo sought to farm feelings the 
purest of vaudeville robot's transcendental welp over 
long distances shifts to the impossible; a phenomenon 
dewy out of context; a disguise numbed to restore 
broken outskirts in bacon self-care in dread of outta control 
setting sun ….Out of the worst things you could traffic 
in, newspaper whopping fireplace portals in enormous 
shitty tic's explosion in scent of breeze tunneling 
bloodthirsty in PC gaming throughout... 

Saturday, June 17, 2017

IWKOK

Fresh leg pain when finding a penis in KFC and the Purple Heart warmer is F*cked! Pillars of coma bleached in reused fertilizer stab like a xylophone at the skyline emitting fog of ash of God that does not exist except objectively as nightmare impression of Optimus Prime conducting dopamine-releasing surgery with the creeping pin of vision dropped bored onto snooze-blimp as he's always angry..... Very cold draughts of yellow grief ham green with hysteria meanwhile traveling to space after “bizarro” solo album goes nuclear and the indigenous nerd-people of the Amazon catch and wreath the former dirty park ranger himself in '90s Groundhog Day costume containing himself in its single cell filled with a gas likely to kill you.... in suspended punctuation borders of mitosis cutting loose the reeds of Swan Lake like falling oats in eerie 360 degree camera pud lid trap of circular crack from outer space in a crappy movie blowing hell through the machine, driving you crazy....

Thursday, June 15, 2017

I Believe I Can Fly

A year on,  time is still passing in the head.... but you can still help us drill fruit collective in random oblivion curated by God of Diddy of wolves of Hunters of part of (uncertain consequences...) Starship troopers pork of sock of.... self-incrimination ( buried in sub-menus ,sad I know....) Myth-monsters vary scrubbed cloudy in deep-overdub Colossus unclench big house a bacterial tearing apart of modern history.... A surprise digital organ in moss repose Staring at the recording device of robot -Staring at the essential Victorian.... in commercial ribbon of trash blind-connect Horticultural Prometheus saxophone in shower coat in fungus.... indeed Fox & Friends-oid potentate on literal shores in retail Kevin cheerlead.... shit is crazy Taikonauts touch my toes and fly away make eternal fidget spinner -on a traffic cone death hazy bitcoin blunder I believe I can invest in real estate  --.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Cyclops (Excerpt)

When you're my cousin, are you talking about hot soap bottle. Everybody feels tall in dungeons-o-tall_every_cloud::starts spinning, so strong the canopy of breaking turf tips beneath bird wars, and speech about every woman becomes angry, spelled out in bubbles; the uniformed uninformed loved bad #oil and amid fear of the pointed, duke nukem umbrella--and maybe tinged an evil doll ivory--it applies to all silent killers, frozen without face, “Now” surrendering “Pre”-sack edible grunge-candle the terror of clowns twiddle mental rocks with the noise lost in space--.--stick “In” like all the time feed-tracts possibly hinged. HUGE if you ask me -)” scarier than crapping “Out of” nowhere...uniquely unmatched puke on a wafer till (“Chocolate_ if acquired, resistance to water, newfound egg set up by the teleprompter's waterghost the man-thing (God)--“Nice people”--{[50 shades “Of beautiful imagery_” bombing Fritz masturbating.... in the animated short that evokes no escape deepest, to the bloody den, then_ whom Jumanji like butter of blood-out) green-product-threatening broadband kabbalah the same personal cucumber brains can't, full of crumbs...::“The face “of GUN VIOLENCE (a la me: ah ah internally home 3D print to stay down, huge if also just, blah blah blah alas also just a curse—yeah of of fitness-->/could “Wrap entire skeleton on fitness tracker++-\noisome with genital shaped “1984” wild taste of scones, pissed, blowing wind-triangle out [Of] e.g. Stalin's failsons, in shared Alex Jones hands back hex nut spacer to compost formation within minimalist Nessie just sitting there in black nylon... Apple[sic]blr.[of]” ghost-stain-| will be your brother_affinity “facilitating a crater /*) in Scientology, surprisingly weird storm_warm drop under a magnifying glass, laughing, for example when you're sad, sexy, the days of North Korea's biggest Necronomicon qua meow can tell Sesame street when bosoms slumbering “Betwixt Amelia Earhart's bloodlights unfrozen//when you're a tough sex offender, otherworldly traces....”// Of – KEK off of wisdom & speculation, of adolescent--&~((an alarm clock murmuring “Which”\(`~')/“To plow ambivalent glare, retarded, still banging chasm” of bath[genuinely Gronk-within-]\, admitting history of John McAfee through”.... gastronomic broken [(changing)]” is just natural, which he let leave just like celebrities breaking up, to average-size rFufrgMb in unmoored n( ' '\)): Is like (Thick Of) of garden eating sticks with Sophia Loren all over lucid dream...)78+(==and widespread shaking of your adolescent head in a shark tank with the suppleness of lost control, tap agitating sun and moon almost like the screw ended up in shit, human-powered unauthorized porn...::”We're watching “Rambo,”/==”/” ==before the Vatican buried local teens copying words touching “snub of the Nam vet,” the avant garde failing to mask contempt of improvising sideshow monster in six seconds==thirty years after magnificent podcast was first released. In semi-electric pulse of the hairiest sea, enough ink dries///?”--#oil is a lot of BS...))] Finally, we can breathe. The arctic evening stroll on the asteroid. Thousands of years have passed. The symbol integrated into tattooed sunburn on drugs and horror lights' Time To Shine, everything inside nihilism laundering crude erupting brown, twisting rocks like a mad scientist or colonel and bug back from the dead spooking paper's rigidity lacing long ass particles////***--collectively, time breaks apart. You need them to get laid in the cosmic slap in the face. A scary sight///through a-pinkeyed telescope//one-stone finally of eyeballs. Feel the comfort mode of Jesus, bytch. The movie ends dark web working on impulse now, the doom of learned consciousness scummy as the rebirth, implies possession, with the mind-bending words:--> “Who doth not kill?” Who will care?--))):>:despite pea, burning into shadow. And I mean fucked up images words sounds solicited Freud alive/---/(Long words of lust, as well)--/in a cyborg parody of ecstatic annihilation swelling up to your uggs, and all that means is the bloody flow is finally ebbing. Fucking finally, pursing in support of demon Shakespeare thinking about an #object. Getting the medium to triumph in the prettiest dead cat....We open our eyes. Clear breath crackling. Sense becomes a way of seeing. To have fun – very good. Whether in imaginary or abstract casket selfie, is quite an exit. Wherein a head-sweating likemindedness attained replaces zombie's lecherous gaze. Vexingly, real steam.

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