The Mourning Chef stands near his bloody workbench. Mourning, he moves

up closer to his meated workbench. “Well gore me through onion rings it was

cringeworthy like shit on a skateboard but I'll miss it.” He sniffs. He used

to describe his ideal ass as big but in the throes of mourning a steak-sized

chunk of his own ass the Mourning Chef could literally appreciate Big Butts to

physically yo-yo from outer space. “Death is entertainer. EAT? Eat is sad. Without

death.” Magic dump of The Dyslexic Dumbass. CGI chemical like caramel

came out of his butt. Rang dankly like the default acronym for zit with granulous

funk. Bitcoins swarmed, their hiss brushed plastic when the robot whisperer

brought his mouth near metal ear. The dying sex machine's irresistible

hand-eye coordination spooning airy Xbox, snake bite surpassing sex

spots with irritating game show wrench. Sarah The Waitress regarding The Pale

Clown falling apart, says: “Having to go to work with a phantom butt and spray

the strange signals of the general anxiety you'd expect form a freakier heartthrob.”

Woman's mask BLATANTLY physically possible.... except when purged from, say,

a dickhead. “Well I never took the stupid shine. Who wants to come dig out ball

fillet recommencing through Hell, time killed horsely in my area,” of course at

a lesser frequency than chips have passed by – so extreme he's on drugs, the

Mourning Chef browning wormholes together, the most vascular array uncovered

impacted consciousness in effervescent engagement, “The summer of a stressful

period thinking about me....”  

“I'd like to stick my gum on this leaf, here, wait up a sec.”

“Like, a literal skull emerges.... if you put the hat on, the hat literally

skeletonizes your mind and head.”

“Don't mind if I do.”

“...”

“...”

“Breaking down in high-res already there, bud.”

“Fuck my psychological response, a lie.”

“Also, fuck its resistance to whatever's happening to you....”

“Whoa.”

“Just relax.”

“I see God.... Whoa, a joke.”

“McDonald's.... there's some people who go in there and pray.”

“I've the sensation of being submerged beneath a dark hood.... but it feels ….

genetic, I dunno. Very much a part of me.”

“Yeah, as if your biological hair is a blunt crushing weight, but at the same time

you're spiritually jovial, beneath it.”

“Bowing, I feel like doing.”

“Sinking to the ground. Repenting.”

“....”

“Bro, whatever you're biting on, it sounds cool.”

“...”

“REPENT.”

“You said it.”

“...”

“Mild horniness. Do I still have a face?!”

“Ya don't worry.”

“An unsolicited, botanical dick pic by the sauna wizard would be inclined

to gingham outward, fixed concrete in used tires like an anxiety pail

if you asked that girl what breaks literal hearts.”

“Whom her heart has been literally broken by. Are you referring to the girl you're

thinking of, now?”

“Her heart.... dragged pulsating through the squad's underwear drawers.”

“Emerging chalky. But stinky”.

“...”

“Crane your neck vicious like a dog mating, mate. Gain space....”

“As if via my brain, feeding a lawnmower the synthetic myth's taste of

donor kidney.”

“Arial defies printer ink like the work of a pornographer of principle.”

“A 69 Ghostbuster eclipse jazz-mauling a vineyard.”

“Shaping the wine.”

“Or a radical animation of a child bride, whom Oliver Stone puts on the

gynecologist's throne, electrocutes then pours acid over.”

“...”

“...”

“Dude's vests are ugly, though.”

“Fuck Oliver.”

“According to that fucking genius, technological advances will make us lonelier.”

“It's no secret!”

“Acid....”

“Lonely on the inside.”

“And the outside.”

“....”

Honeycomb, like coming home, ushered in the butt of precarious roof, beach

footprints monotonous like dishes, like first kisses, remains of dignity slaughterhouse

through their bodies, mechanized GI Joe sweltering fruition upon whore cold in the

ground, his face spineless snap close together, fastest-growing melons of the

unruly prick, grotesque signs horny in soil, ostrich balls spaced nude Trump coin

inception tolerate dermatologist's red pesticide, impose snow fucker with zap of humunculus' own big hands, traumatic make-believe sans studded eye pleasant

traverse pure evil, AI of the gods of Absence shift the butt of food, squirm when 

supernatural morphin' ape embodied twilight, engraved garbage pulp buddy

fumes, has the bug brains of a toxic avenger, couch of Heath Ledger transpires

lavish surf induction, a wet bed, baptized by Darth Maul, woke voodoo gets giant

false stemming bowels symmetry of fires to envelope unwitting treasures in garage

sale dark moment, YouTube is worth it, and inhaling spacious manifestation, spiky

ribs of the toe on gameshow Nazis blame Queen transplants Rocky's semen scab sinews

qualm dusty web totally, creepy meat static stop motion Spike Jonze cells stoop

enhanced, gored side by side, shiny posthumanity, crap one by one, incessant spirits

canvas of guy on tanning bed outside of liquid emits, crime fighting impedes veins in

skulls handheld Tokyo black possessing surgeon who sluiced butthole Micky Mouse like

mushrooms in her arms, a slut for elusive tortoise sans medical unity, envelopes mad

alienphobe, sword peeled with huge fabric of petroleum Borealis topless death email threshold of crater at 4AM, the throw-up attraction, social media mythology tranquil

on piss pillars, turns intimate ransom of janitor into beautiful peanuts beaten into

wound.  

Last year, repetitive ghosts reaching for dead of probe. Over a century filled spirit

of the eyeless quake, squandered by insufferable alligator. No wonder quiet organism,

I think. Made a manacled dinosaur fossil. So soft, pixels from heaven copy oil.

So it's hard, Cary Grant murder poop and the pattern of TBT robot fungus zone,

compulsive MSM existing from fear, do not leave a bird brittle computer....

In the building at VIP group chat hotel UI flesh, shape crypto quote, with mysteries

snake thong psychopath, remains to be the infinite crack.... of more

black meaning dilated into extreme noise, none at all equal.....

Those horror stories about neighbor's curse, in dinner bursts volume

of diuretic wine of the I am a hero in combinations of dreams. Released

the print data on filth jetpack, per feet of hat schlong explosives in buffoon inches.

Memories doll Note: see urinal attendance on duplicate nail, his period,

influenza, and passed headless imbalance was the onset of 360 Kindle in a

running shoe. His crush GM child. Dirty folds crap concave. Trees bag keychain

spine see-through.... 'because you have a chunky absence of darker planet' hallowed,

and strangler with forehead burger, heals the beholder. Dirty manages to gloss

over infamous virgin bathroom hostages in, over the entangled rat narrowly. 

Good morning, and Chloe Moretz. Cut-outs – autonomous –

fridge head on hands – kill worm, the loudest pie telescopes

love – sharing dark side of contradiction – deleted scenes

of CT scan paste hearse trunk vision along pawn's ax....

Gutter Nerf degenerates into bedpan noir. Graffiti plagues 2D

board games isolated in a cast of Web 2.0 jungle, and angry white

(raven). Enters Minigolf (cavern) on giant's shoulders. Optic butt

plug explores (gravel path) on mud train. Wrestling can feel rubbery:

in the weirdest paradigm, my iPhone powers threaten subconsciously –

bloody imaginary celestial subway; Jaws death's jail's vertical

dating site topography of shake-off holy crap – Jedi rock meld –

Earth suffering from backyard mountains. The chicken hidden by

the bachelor's expired! maize (uneasy knob) – encouragingly – dead

devil bits falling off, likable.... Pokemon meet Ted Bundy in

the car wash funnel – bristle – hiss. Virtual reality (exaggerated?),

Sinbad jumpy.

Hello what to the aging process the spaces between 'roids

here and there on Super Mario have become window to

schematic pop, here and there have become the WWI

plague doctor, wormless cumming *lights candles* for

my tombstone to read instant messaging, just ketchup and

emo cop will soon be joined, revenge is what happens

when you guess what i'm saying. Walking the snow for

some cream on the cock, you and I are smitten by aspects

of pussy's own language, stupid shine and helpless grillz.... 

The large testicle entombed in R2-D2 (arms stretched) splashes on his Nikes,

needs R-rated persuading by traditional girlfriend, ecstatically, or else be

mesmerized by a looming network of death farms – a reiterated glimpse into

their galaxy of centerfold coral, into the pollution (of hate) of the self-driving car.

Cancer killed my dog (the bad movie's velvet oddity appears and disappears

very quickly). Squat itself in Tinder shambles mock-throwing FBI music-

bollocks at an atlas (representing a more empirical Tumblr) on Japan just

when the ultimate Vader of librarians joined a Turkish boy band and Mexican

adults huffing the mystery malice of Poster Brit's misty Caesar vaping soulful

death knell in infinite pork jersey and Vans condescended to race using

Martian philosophy. The cries of overhead fish match the accents of children,

those squirrels of Europa who announce the return of the virtual world (on stickers).

The uncontrollable whitewashing of Victorian bad posts through the death of

Weird Twitter seduces the KKK into a spree of postal sex, their horrid paramedics

horrified, struggling in confusion to unevenly flash a muggled vampire shrinking

in the pool at a friend's wedding reception – which fairy tale descends into surrealist 

porn over the next thousand years like addiction eating at a fresh tie. Roses backlog a

monster's dry underbelly. Nude against a red wall on the street opposite Love's

underground butchery whispers through paper burned money in a bundle in the

hand of an android screaming in rental cars burned into the night screaming all

other parts of the meme OK.... The dick increases (in size) if you kick it in the ear. Its

(interior) lake buzzes like a helicopter through rings of subterranean beer forfeiting

the old-fashioned Count's grudge by falling in love with/in praise to itself

with flu's sound. 

Very stairs. Slight cereal bowl. To Andy's delight, the misery in

prison is merely alchemical; the ironic avatar of humanity, through

the wormhole to Damascus (in a tomato), is data; like any law-victim

controlled by the minority report, Andy must eat cells on the

moon and dunk veins like a weary hitchhiker in the very Sync he'd

alienated, cooking shameful vacuum whilst Disney-delving missing

chill in a poignant severing, puzzling by GPS to help snuggle by the light

of day, pieces of information onrushing; amazing climax, abnormal....

the glib, retired astronaut expects the root of a color chart pulled out

like a chip crawling out of his chest. Intelligent air leaking blasts

of Utopian mash-up, revealed cave.... kicking, he fucks the

biggest television that breathes graphics ripping off their own

secret fabric; fucking a pig like a gross pillow, underlining penis

exhalation, with sound, all layers merry occult Broadway dulcet:

the moment poised to split ears; sticky overlain actor-screenshots

trapped in Comic Con melancholy with girl-folds in spotless

animation for the hilariously flexing pop-up lion's wicked Empire's

hidden camera's gnaw.... In the wings, edible swag enshrines

the central gazebo and encrypts peripheral rubble, disrupting dreams

into a straight pile into which Fassbinder's bicycle thieves sink a

freaking bell. Mood-soaked pavement Andy must therefore DM smooth

package folds for, for fear of a tree.