Lots a lot of blood but I think he'll make it. Back massage with the butt of a gun, much rather have been a swarm of something, "Barely literate, smells like feet." Baroque or home. Let's start a Suggestipedia school here. "If found, please destroy." O lost O magic O musky Odor of What Is. His feet hasn't grown in years. How coulda saved face when here I am to face the music? I haven't heard from him in years, he said. "Turn around." A list : It really does sound distant, how many years a star. The Boy lacked for nothing, O One or Two Patties; O Patsy Cline how come backseat blunderer? Tis nary an angel on the spot that'd stick his hand in The Fire saith Nick. "Ineloquent Yanks." Brim the tip this Milky Spume tops like lions. The Day Brittany Murphy Died, "I'll have a Coke." Swasti-cum-lately Charlie Tam, his ouevre schtik smokestacks please banana pankcakes Shit-Clod Geese flow south. I think therefore entitled too, come to art this canvas electrify? Gonna crumb? How long do Bundys live nowadays anyhow? How lately Not-So-Rush Of-the-Morning Keeps wizard me soft like fluff, seeds a moment, thrumb, pray tell might by Ego, so snuffed between -ism and impish soliloquy. Allow me your Subtle Geometry, your Bird-Stained Words, your Winged Tendencies. Set fire to an ant farm, glow amidst the dots a light opera—Donna's Dirty Feet—Whoopie Tango Tango. Tell me, when you walked off in a Ballpark Strut, something smells like a lobe in the Sun, a cherry turned Tomato-Red, that's a fact. The Nights' Eyes O Ardor, ladder me skyward, this Unaboriginal Lard. Two Bugs, Yaks' Bitter Tea, how Monkish you've become, an old sage. Whip a coarse edge through this Lump-Strawed Adding Machine. There goes the bathwater, no idea.. Put 10 pounds of flesh in a toboggan and call it incandescent—genioso—what a brain. What Glacial Eyes, a Couple of Arms, Legs, count young among my closet. This ancient reclusive hum sings sideways like an anvil. Cyst fist us wonder like a rotten carrot down in front, please. Abyss me frenzy Ed Harris I caved. I caved again O Snoozle-Me-Do, this hag my gum protects you from kissing diseases. Say no gun Hip Cricket? Say no say no say no say nada. Say no say nada. Stayin' at the Marriot. Which fragrance are you? We're not as cool as we think you know, shitting diamonds Steve-Buschemi Eyes. Says Captain O Captain scene from a window, portholes painted back black butterflies land-locked and pray for rain. Is Tara Reid still alive? Sing Stella by Starlight. Sing tense Astor skies each week gone like shellfish, by muzzled brine I spit, two teeth split masts like Red Sky, "I'm-Sorry-Sir-but-She-Can't-Come-to-the-Phone
Right-Now" morning. Amidst the Whetting Stone us Conjugal Whitsundays, a straightened way to look at Anti Matter Anti Blabber A Child Would-Be Rainclod named Rabbit Pit-Pat how dumb Alice. Joints that blew smoke in ear trumpet. Bluesharp shot a man today just to wave his hungry. "Get Coppers," I said, and cast waves out into the latticework. Two-steps up the ladder there, there I go. Dammit Alice you're making all the pencils cry. W. C. Handy. White Fig. I'm kind of a squirter. Oop yo Raw Philosopher. Stack said "Keep 'em Hungry." A way to keep a bishop in check is a fork in the road. An ox cart hitched to a boiled egg, your Cobb-Salad days over there sitting Indian-style on the rug, no crossed Navajo cross no. You fucked up science experiment. You pignosed one-man. Record you using shock surveillance, worried soldier in stalk belly bottoms in style beginning with celery until a skim forms on top, then take this steak and make it your own. A day a day a day a day as any other rose—a crepuscular—a day as dollars in my eyes. A Hungry Man® for a hungry man, crowdsourcing anal play Italian responses fill up on bread. Which color are you? Think about it—think nothing more than a drop in the ocean, kick a bucket full a tears. Boromir is dead. Doubt cast shadow for a mole and a series of networks of Original Content. Heard they put Flouride© in water to make 'em stupid. The End is nigh O Gentle Knight do not go. O ample thristlike aerialists' ever-punching Yaw Control panels, picture the words, she says, "Gooddamn I'm a Beauty." Whip to me in your Native Tongue—goddamn "Squonk squonk" Squoken. This splat-milk way of knowing, unearthly tension growing out the side of his head. Take up your arms and reach for the sky, give thanks upon the rim that bore you, onward toward whatever Ancient-Salted Rime O my captain sees with eyes closed, Pale Falconer a ways' off, Wicked Statesmen come to steal my plunder methinks. An answer in a Porthole O once set sail, tis nary another rock in sight to sup your sirens on. I eat Baby Bumps for breakfast. Liken Milk to Cookie, liken Litter Rock like Wow! A constancy for The Birds, such largesse, such addled choirs, O Gnostic Baseball pulsing ethereal O Wheat-Cracked Hymnal stained-grape Dionysus amidst a Sky of Tarpen Cornfields sing Blues Harp Hebrew you so Romanesque. I'd die for a garden but would you kill for one? Throwback to a team of Gestating Pupa harboring a grudge against a Fifth-Grade Butterfly. Social implosion hampered by a predestined ability to see into our Papal Future. Insert paps to any outlet, my therapist saids a need to be more grounded, to take the High Road. Sent away six to eight weeks and Susan never saw it coming, but now she stuck with him. Put the poison in and serve it as a blue-ribbon country, and die clean! Enlightened beings are we crust are we an icicle are we overstaying our welcome? Breath in a brown paper bag nondescript like Christmas; open cookies at midnight, click the tock; no ghosts and St. Nick saith "O Hum, O Ardent Philosopher, lessen your cares and goose me thick my pimpled skin ups to touch. Bill Me Later® and sleep till noon. NoSpacebar serves Slorp and a Soylent Pair of Genes. Hard-Boiled Democrats in the dressing rooms of "Making-Sure-the-Suit-Fits.” This is just to say, your blouse is stunning. A tissue razed a Rabbit for a year. Pay the Man for his guns Holiday.