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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