TRON - live sack

the super

computer's inner

tongue-shaped

planet's

Victorian deep-

throat mall taste

gall paste

flammable beneath our grasp

a snail rim

brain

interface

as thick-skinned

as alien

wrestling

laundering sweatshirt signals

teabagging occult drones

rasping; crawling away in the depressing LEGO gutter,

a sack-enlivening

box cutter balancing

tenderly on

our biology's

sagging sepsis, with the irreversible arpeggios of pulp on a defibrillator.

TRON's canine complexion widens with relief –

poop cloning in the program's yellow eyes.

Talk about a traumatic reversal.

cryptic Tupac

Bog damage obeys its ramifications' insane assault leak, with graceful incongruity.

Hear the quarry's thrumming asymmetry. Splashy human being. Creampie interlinkages feathered in a grossly solid romance of honky diabetic offshoots and poached kid toy. The smell is not the only thing that improves. Derived transcranially from a clown, its poetic permutations pluck the passive intestine from a hot rod. Tupac is a two-pronged cryptid that coughs raw tranquility into the back of beef's throat. The cripple's rise's parts' sheen. A corruption of transparency; a theater seat grimacing beneath sex offender robot soldier balls. The numb glam of desiccated parking lot animal sacrifice. The absence of a theoretical butterfly limb contaminating the forest's complex vertical upholstery.

RAPE VAN II – another mutation

I lose hair in a trance. I then pay bogus money to get rid of this head of

recursive frisbee taint. The bane of flower petals not sitting flush.

Humpty Dumpty's scientifically impossible nipple ring

glances his lobster windpipe, which looks more worn with

each eerie, doorag-inverting exhalation and each chugging,

navel-tessellating inhalation...

Accidental religion under Airwolf's morgue hood.

Lumpy drips abracadabraed by the wifebeater of an aroused/accursed wife-beater.

The loose gravel proliferating around its Emo pump.

Proving memes have the lifespans of rubble.

And bear suits full of cum are a foible of the slave hordes,

long after their collective fungal bathroom fluff had clogged the gills eroded

into the cardboard cliff cutout in front of the villain's stuffy lair they

helped reticulate full of detours apropos of nothing. Shadowed roadworks,

gash-like in the glare of the kidnap-ambulance... 

sirens

Mutation corrects the snake’s migraine eyelid.

A mass of kinetic ectoplasm unsticks from my leg, delivering

the pizza’s glans.

Happy processor and liquid hashtag meanwhile align into anatomically neutral hemispheres –

i.e. a grid of psychosis rolling across gaping little trunks on a demon axis of severe plush.

Alarm cancels the voice in my head.

Revenge as a stimulant dyes Snow White’s vine meta-ghetto.

Necromancy haunts death’s inflation with fantasy static.

The amusement park levitates

as one piece of holy

rampant silicone.

Eyestalks succumb to wonder, not alarm.

Carlos Danger!

A clown has browned this area. Carlos “Bunsen burner” Danger's

science experiment conjured up a lifeless bicarbonate of soda burp,

by contrast. But an alleviated wormhole is still a ramifying wormhole:

IBM-noir innards – electronics as arcane as Bolivia, as heavy as New York –

purveying McDonalds as abstract as a virgin. Personalized resurrected fudge

compressed in a mold like the amygdala on LSD, pushing out through

the Martian layers of Batman's svelte rubber. The object of a tick's addiction

now singes its face. Sometimes an opaque coil strays like a black pube from

the otherwise transparent disease. Moldy pollution eclipses the hellishly bright

depression in those eyes, but soon settles and sticks to the floor.

Suddenly, in the clearance, you're being fondled by a plant. Face to face with

the plant: pain's beautifully fractured travels mirrored in the plant's sweaty face.

You two's two-headed mouth temperature; as warm as washing your hands

after the massacre. Nursing the bottle's cork remains demeaning to the blue

sinkhole of divinity. Groggy suicidal falling blocks are more widespread on

social networks. The Balrog's jumpsuit is sunshine-covered and its crotch

dispenses uranium PEZ.