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...
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