brown food

Brown bleeding through a shit sieve foreshadows freckles –

crypto kites the sky god's face swallowed, their visual imprints

flapping weirdly numb. Each a dead flipper scientifically reanimated,

'miraculously' kickin' it in Bill Nye twerk sock. Our block is pretty

dormant with Goonies on Ritalin, i.e. young urban wretches in

sticky juxtaposition with each other. Segas spurt dog eared.

Front lawns so buttery as to be wrapped in light. Picnic bouts

of dinosaur-fleecing, tendrils reaching the four ends of a Happy Meal.

Testicles are oddly cranial, elaborately loitering spider-bodied clusterfucks,

usually. Had pussies not lovelily melted space, they too would've behaved

like dicks. Barnacles merely take to the nearest object, usually. On Instagram,

the curb attaches to an ice-cream; in real life the ice-cream again self-dislocates

and/or saltily self-decapitates. I dislike and/or kick roast origami centaur.

I recycled my cat fetish online into brown tears like huge fucking zeppelins,

as if cats intestinally were flush with baked beans.

cartoon throb

blood-polished

bungle slapstick

low wolf

unvisitable

wall-to-wall

steaming hungry

unhindered silk cliff

machine-bouncing,

segued hugging bends

hidden remotely, carcasses fake

heartwarming

custom setting

throbbing

improvised crucifixion

asteroid chase

sentient memory foam bug-out

plopped pasty,

run out of

puppy jammers...

propeller moth

howling full of neon release

Grim Reaper connective tissue

on red dot sparse-spiral eyelash-repeat

with gnarly mattress aftertaste

a debunked vacuum door:

the prosthesis with a life of its own

cartoon-creeping from shredder

hanging on by body of shooting star

eat each other, a dimmer product

of Chinese whispers tooth decay 

lumpy bath water

Connecting brains eventuates a loss of the whole system

Combing the tub of sensory information

Blows my mind, a blown mind looks

Like a tub of jelly beans or a vegetable bypassing a stop sign

A ferris wheel keeping rebounding back

I want to die, I want to die

The funeral home catalyzes a drop in molecules

Armed with all my barf crimes

Clustering weightless

A formation of finger smell

As a true ninja would hideously thread

Ghostbusters vs. gimp and the vague

Waterline of a gag reflex

Evacuated from a darkening inflatable pool
Super Soaker doom bleep

My veins cradle the roadkill and all its flaws

Lumped into a metronome costume

Anthropomorphic radiator

Its apelike deliverance color-coded

By a logic in the bath

Specialized to eventually OK

Holographic floaters, stinkers, etc. 

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.