BUDDING

From being tickled again, some coagulation would later

occur again. Like nodes stressed under mysterious subliminal

budding, droplets would pupate on my legs. A pinball's number of

increments networked, reconstructed as an “L”. Likewise

an “R.” Bunnies limit my diabetic coma's acoustics.

The tooth in the feather duster did nothing wrong.

I made a sound recording of my plow both while

rehydrating upon a struck vein and while churning independently

of the earth. If death squads are soluble around jukeboxes,

why wouldn't ordinary social behavior endure storage?

Nothing can remedy the matter: you're sinister because

you remain pristine amid food fights. The rat's asshole

is unborn, it says on an ad banner. The adorable splash of

rough edges is simply a prototype. Computers digest in

low-budget blitz, with a 'Welp'. Do you think tragedy is lame?

Asteroids try to rely on levitation as their proudest, biggest effect.

They yield the stains of brain waves. Acres of gulps between

gaps on this weird algorithm's guided tour, in a condom's eye line.