With Stockholm
syndrome in a car crash porno's weird time-sack stirred by the butt
stuff sorcerer with a laser pointer, the ritual's atheist beam jitters sexy in the eyes of the Avengers' trailer's rusty antenna – until Kermit taps the veined
hentai split snake circle of the metaphysical telephone triangle, cosplay claws like Warhol made them for Hitler and the white men of the
halloween GIF who infrequently twiddle particle zoom in Excel, with
the entire grid swung – a continent in a tooth-whitening dream
about a seamless full moon, the breathing neck of film-spiral, photovoltaic pleasure-source to robots of amateur war and sex, bumper car death-jizz glistening in its turquoise light on Dr Who's exposed, purple gray area.
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