tang the mobiles ate the minds of doped up herd of young people the crying in the forest rusting hulks dying with no dignity (the panic of freedom for two point buck)
sashaying to hypnotism making the concepts diagonal french kissing the hibiscus manikin with the aggression supplied by the Roswell point of insectoid interest whose mandibles
pray to density the viscous pop points dead inside the acrobat
*** THEY WERE NOT PREPARED $$$
criminal gunmen bombs spreading faeces out beyond the old and abandoned colored beachfront
they were not prepared for hajji pilgrims lost in their warped tunnel vision
the sales the stores the American gore on full display the sidewalks the parking lots these battlegrounds now
multiplying as fevered microorganisms with meta micro punk whispers
is this the mirror an irritable mirror the faces seem strange
about merry-go-round teething
the Thing meets on Friday
“to whom will you grovel?” asks the burly hairy the waiter is squatting and grimacing and holding and
“what would you give?” if the pumping kept going and the running was contagious to find the magic shadow that would make it all go the way
of freaks masticating the flesh of conniving beards playing
with plastic