To the
things the samurai allows
to
resonate, monochrome rough.
Curls
for safe sex. Its weird
robotic
craving self-inflicted:
like
corn's grotesque middle,
a hive
with zero bark.
The
herd's haircut is a serious
condition...
Neutrality
fell in its own trap
trying
to wedgie heavy machinery.
Permeates
the parking lot,
which
is sticky both sides.
A
hurtling birthday wrecks space.
Puked
up numbing. The
TV
intestinally hunched over.
A
darker contagion passing through
town;
i.e. KFC's alligator psyche entering
my
exquisite colostomy bag.
Jerky
Angry Birds fossil needs
the
whole Ice Age
stuffed
angrily with it, at a party.
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