Shattering
the talk with nonsense is a wry observation of filth. Nerdy gross outs and
boarded up windows and trigonometry all lead to the same place: sordid obesity.
Confusion is a profound thumb war when you come down to it and let's not talk
in clashing riddles that serve only to wriggle around in naked sewage. Spewing
from the mouth of your mother is a platitude that refuses to deplete the human
spirit, a phraseology that concludes the nature of blasphemy in espionage. The
sheet is slipping and nobody can find the mask anymore. The walls are damasked
in wet bluntness. Drip-dry the heavens and see what's left of man's inconsiderate
development towards marching zebras with learning hooves. Frailty reprieves the
curtain before it brings down the tabula rasa. I told you as much one time so
many months in the future of our hand-holding.
It's
like the life has drained out of your face and your faith is showing in the
bags around your eyes. Is that a jowl I spy on the rise of your cleft? Bravado
slides like tectonic plates on the skeletal defiance. The last fight is over
and now we begin the opening of cherishment or the burning box as you'd call it.
This is naivety we're talking about, not discussing, talking about. Align with
the retro angle and you'll lose the sides of the speaker just as he delivers
the key notes to a naval officer's nipple ring collection. Make pretend with
stethoscopes and we'll forget all about it. We won't even tell your mummy or
teddy bear, that's how good we are to you. Ain't that sweet?
Socks
on shoulders and nobody asks why. They chose it so we follow their rules like
littering darlings and the dragoon saloon. Creosote stammering and blow holes
of fortitude with nothing but a ranch dressing on the top of it. Let's peel off
the transatlantic attitude and draw down the jerky. That's the way to do it as the
man said with a hand stuck up his arse. The tiny arms aren't quite up to snuff,
they flap about in the slightest noise and bedevil the axle. Bedraggled is lost
in the sunshine and cruising around for speeding tickets. It is devising a method
of ruining the space programme with bits
of paper and superglue. It's really quite marvellous if you wrinkle your brow a
bit and accept defeat.
Quit
bogarting the train fair and light up the deviation at the sprinkler bit at the
end of a nibbled string. It's now or never or maybe next Tuesday. I don't fancy
waiting around with fingers all over the place and nothing protecting my wrists
sufficiently. You know what scares me? Dying at the hands of a small ball that
belches sputum. It costs me sleep each night I think about such sweet games in
the park involving damp passing and cold throwing. Grapes are grapes are
satisfaction and is that enough to end a sentence with?
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