10/03/2013 - STABILITY IS LIKE A SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM

Stability is like a shock to the system without a harp playing in the background. The clothes line is dangling low, hanging like a bitch without its water. How it smarts the smarmy living and fiddles the qualms of the dying. Petrify my salami and protrude like a slamming salami that a heaven-sent Chihuahua threw into the audience without a care for its own hunger. It's like a Hispanic devotedness, a sort of purloined DVD player that nobody could open for the sake of the fluids. But we're powering through it like something out of a something that nothing really mattered about. My mind is deteriorating I suppose but eventually it shall turn into glove puppets for germ phobic womanizers. Display cases and display cases filled with armpit disaster areas and quirky banana plantations. Openly violate them with your trigonometry and you'll get a free outlook without even having to pay in lonely instalments. Aren't we just wonderful to you peasants? Would it make the slightest bit of difference if we didn't? How dare you for answering, get back to the trailer or I'll give you a hiding you'll swear by for the rest of your sorry little life! Blasted.

            Sordid rectangles and aeroplanes flying into the singularities that remain apertures into nobody's business. Our Samson had a right laugh that day, a right old chuckle. Challenges popped up everywhere, so many I couldn't help but fall about myself in a tizzy. Switchblades were drawn, yellow streaks were had and I sat in a corner that shouldn't really exist on this planet. I almost gave in but I sprang back and hit out against the sarcastic arseholes that we call 'society's protectors'. Valiant, indubitably, not so sweet around the edges. Never trust a protector round a bike shed, they'll steal your clogs and leave you to the monkeys. Not the cute, hairy monkeys: the frightening bungling monkeys that shoot ice cream beams out of their rectal cavities. Disreputable stuff, don't get me wrong. Like ice clinking in a glass without the schedule to hand.

            Search and seek and you shall find some sort of leaky trail leading out from a faulty winkle. Stupidity wears a habit and doesn't like water wings because they weigh it down and make it look inhospitable for all potential lovers. Iodine solution to wet the eyes, to whet the stalker's pipe and slippers. Don't trust that cabin in the North-West Gargoyle Department. Cannibalism encourages wretched manners and strangling of superstar kidneys. Rows and folds of departmental interrogations and lollipop thermometers that bleed in several hues despite what the label says and is supposed to say. The hours blur when you drink the ambrosia without the traditional mixer. If an electrical fire starts up you'll be perfectly helpless and I can't quite see how that's a good thing. What could you possibly laugh at now? This is supposed to be a quiet division and now you're running your hands up and down my thighs. Lose your whistle, you maniac.