Monday, August 21, 2017

Path of Totality

The camel whose monster threads patch, bashful with full Excel-outmoded blast gas – when totality hits an English-old century, and the morning kills in machine sweat and structure-dazzling inserts of an amazing shudder – also go grotesque as a prong.... Now that the new cycle of a bicycle turns back to gathering fear moments, of the black Second Coming, cool stuff here soars, and appears deliciously off.... Tropical birds perpetuated in the 100 millionth birthday tentacle skid off the path of totality.... buy obnoxious computer.... politicize feed..... colorize content and shredded object unbearably psychedelic; cut cable off from robot poem again and again, over and over again, until unrecognizable. Pile weapons on the mat burning beneath them. Never seen this burning man before – instinctively in person-mode, to the mirror pantomimes joke brawl – “eh, what the hell hustles perfect cheap plastic?” From the moment I nut in comfort food, a mere tortured boogeyman's occultation jam, Raichu and big, stupid Eraserhead baby – and more links – center in ass pairs sleeping together mid-air rooted in revelations of hung hog baroque as just two buds being a big enough vector graphic in Fibonacci fungus. (“I am a 5am gram, mold man!”) If you don't have Monster urges, trotting back and forth between and circling closer and closer to your wizard counterparts to retain a heat-sunken dye to your brand, your home – the secret ramen that makes up sheep's clothing also went into the lawn of your very first address, former or original or epistemo-address.... until then, look before crushin' hyperbolic violin into cannibalism: the so-called nasty ass theme park erected a bonfire that injects steam into a good person.... heart muscles oil the brain's fun personality.... the Metaphysical blond Regime opens the Wheel of Fortune partly, and only for a short while – sloshing optimism around in midnight online registration, burning whiskey as seen through zen TV-glasses, revealing your own creature-comeback to you and to you alone ... Take the children to another room, for there's a precedent in damage, silent frolicking wrought burning crosses …. schizos gonna try different pantry shelves ….. fusion of the slumped fork in total penis optimism (“remember its eccentricity!”), its total perpetual food poisoning echoing barfy through an empty subway..... Through surrealist orgasm every behaving self loses soap with a lot less subtropical blot, despite always clowning around in sexual robotic discipline dragging dark themes through internal organs always emerging fresh as fug....  

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