A block, brick, heavy hold. Tempted tried, lights flash bright, strobelike distractions. Faces smooshed, pushed, smashed, handled, trampled. Smoke beams cast evil shadows and weather walls to heart shaped hems and viral gems. Cages cling clang, bang against metal art, architecture. Erect stalls crash through crumbling walls, forming hills, lumps with wood hips. Flashed forward clothing bangs of blue crust battered from the hazy waves of old perfume and flammable tire suits. Brown grayish tips of leather, white grips of knuckle luck, fisting baby ankles in high heeled combats. Sisters cutting film strips glued to dollfaced hair boy lamb costumes. Sulking clumps of frothy fat tears gulping back grease smiles tucked into folds of caramel fake fruits. Camping outside in heaps of paper tubing, rubbing alcoholic apoxy, creams, cans and ointment, skinned knees. The cold barks leapt out like cats from trees, after paper money like dragon myths. Squished battered rolls fade out into groups of muti-colored hoses dripping wet with burnt blood capsules, packed into crates near backs of buildings before being put into semi trucks in the following days.
Retreating the party’s rage.
only 10 feet tall
Filled with nails, high bathroom stalls, walk-ins with talking bashing, eating callers, speakers of laughter melting into puddles of snaking filthy mass. Closet shelf holes of plastic video cassettes spelling out train on the side walk in the sun for one. Baked roof patterns listing objects or feeling for overcapture, exposure rains cascade to bottom trenches deep cut through forest yards and inches from styrofoam doors and plexi-window units slathered with ball cream and sustaining hair wax, covered in crinkled cupcake foil tops and bottoms milking out the sun chemicals without the light, re-gifting big lipped aisles to shrude plant caps on the interior once furniture pieced potted sitting or destroyed wood, and structure.
Walled cracked inward, blistering, trapped, gorgeous. Peeling putrid papers to rips and tears, spreading open sores into rooms with bare castles of disgust. Driving cans shoved deep in mattress filling stained with semen blood drenched mornings, cast in mold and breakfast paste, seeped in thick stench hammering at showered skulls, pieces of vein, tissue and follicles of bare skin bathed in white paint glued to narrow feelings and soft shattered drawers.
inspired by orphans
the easier wood gives slight to midnight faces, sometimes developing leather-like wrinkles and pretending to walk upright, the easier creeks bend. Spaghetti straps tend to replicate method of pretending as they fall or give. Habitats suckle on huge nipples from outside the woodland home, gaped open for the mammals and insects to resurrect their aging soils. Tied knee deep within was a small girl. Her bike, fresh out of training lay nearby, her hair had been burnt off by a blow torch. Her scabbing scalp left bleeding, sensitive to the touch, to the slap of stained wet clothing wrapped around proper seating, smells of velvet whisping in front of her electric nose and sweat, throat perched on a thin log burning out at one end. The foil folds amongst the paper trail held often good foods, but none she could reach. The closest to her were traces of goiter and dung covered in the skin and hair of previous delicates. Milk splashed her numerous parts and laughter dangled its single testicled lies above her nearly impotent face. She asked for forgiveness this time, she asked for cake and ice cream as well and then all the happy forest animals came to play and enjoy in the cake and ice cream…and jupiter jump and the show was over.
About the Major Record Industry as a “hole.”
Strangled bloody lung fucking-Swinging global hits from a toasted sick bag and years. just angry from eating all the puff paints in the rain. thousand hits at number one blew out by a trail of dandelions in a foggy boat ride. Simple stagnant mentally cripple fucks eating cum from the shit tasty frosty mug slides lining the highways covered in popsensitive umbrella toppings and tables made from luncheon meat and hazy afterbirth smiles painted in a rainbow fasion so all the robotic feti know where to go spend their first paychecks or that of the breeding asshole that shat them into tomorrow and forgot to flush. Goo stained piles of goo thrusting into evil canyons, then covered in cement not intended for travel. spacy waves hover in the swamp lands that ooze very berry extra fruity stool samples into soft serve cellular ball throwing machines similar to the tennis ones, but douche operated.
Baby chicken legs shoved or injected in the cavities of polar bears fried on sticks, hung in sweaters for heated billboards. Gasoline soaked anal trophs scoop into the souls and emotions of the green and brown shirted banner ads, disintegrating them like invisible cups or mugs. they suck down rapids of what they know to like in exchange for actually knowing and cry bald plastic tears that could make beaded necklaces for Africa or smile in paper sacks for a little while. No one brings their lunch anymore. Very few bring snacks. So how do we know about the other meats and colors. How do we know what we aren’t trying isn’t the best? How do we know that more of them won’t make less of it better over time? Shit is shit. Eat it up, fucking fucks.
mari-posa, ca
the brilliant side of gold dulled today slight. bread knives were sharpened to spears near angles. five leather boys unearthed a milky song with their mouths and fingers. blue hyacinth shadows the cars of neighborhood fixtures and light. hums picked up early in shopping cast widow’s dresses near various overtones on buttons and knobs for a luxurious final. Tug tug past the calendar paper lapses with new days in jungle suits they all wear from the cup dripped a plastic book or two. nine feathers growing underbrush tight gifting dear eagles pretend they might die. if shifty the corn holder asshole in view from plastic ostrich carving formulas nearby. legs push the screws and cycle the froth back to corners, back to the stamp collected blood fry where cities divide often. Junked rot tires and duct taped genital lambs brought out by girls in cans if they can on television ties with broken america shape stains tattoos on the medieval earth. all added to less speaker systems at some point or built up into nothing before eyes in stationary stations. pronto pronto. & someone’s son pretends to be just that.
Shanked by Trollfucks
Visitors to prison garb heckled by sad clamps on mad clown chairs wing tapped against winding guilded light patch strong men. painted pans and pots post details candied and marked by grass eyed soft spells and lamb’s blood stabbing fist fulls of hair follicle sloth water betting light gasps under pressure. slick oil filled robes of lumps and short curves masked in bearded froth sweat and scale tissue. fingers scratching burnt skin fixes making waves of pain to the no longer ticklish soldier. sliders enter slip grease holes wasting gobs of milky excess dropping splatters on angry body parts. bacteria, disease, misfortune comes clean dethrowned under the hot uncomfortable blanket of skin webbed over walls and tacked with sticking thumbs sharp from scabbed knives and nail knuckles.
Dry forceful thrusts of bare barked hammer skinned thick to vein covers and dark red meat wraps hitting fast learning to taste dry blood mess through fruit rot stench and disarray. Followed closely by sad dragging acute pear shaped trickles and clanging of under water chains slashing at deep purple gashes massaging bird sounds coughing in thunderous noise cavern walls crumbling aside from beating weight structures of painful shards near bone cutting needle pricks nose holed bounds beyond bare flesh through slick strapped organ like gas cans and enormous glass sheeting. Strings of clutter clumps trash mildew stains on carpet walls wet with light green residue dripping soft frost from forests rich with ribbed harnesses destructing butterfly wings pouring out small animal carcasses into stretched deadly vibration casings.