28/03/2013 - DEFIANCE IS STABILITY

Defiance is stability and standards are weltering like rosebuds on a sanctimonious relationship. It's going down and the syndrome won't give respite to anyone outside of the hairy fisted clan. The badlands are filing up with creaky necks and porous beauty that leave me wet and respected. Smart batches of dancing rooftops will lead the heartstrings astray, as if you were about to listen to those bitches in accounting. It all filters through the one way system that is grocery shopping. Beetroots are ideal within the correct parameters and the bedding rocks whilst you rebel against them. It's ruining the ecosphere and making the chalk wake up in fits of hysterics. Howl at the suffering with broken teardrops and watch the sundry swastikas peel away with tepid rebounds. It's a might that can't be spoken or a proof of diagonal eyelids. Stitches are like see-through desires, nowhere to be seen on a fleshy coloured bath tub. It's like an old man clicking at the prospect of another day's witchcraft. Make the deliveries and people shall drape hellos all over your ribbed van.

            It's friendship that makes the tail wag and drop at the sight of an ancient ruin. The respectable beaker rips a shudder in the time-space continuum with nothing but a saving grace. Bellow like a rabid child and you will see who is believed to be best at bowling, we all know that the answer is coloured green. Tinted green. Tainted green. Verdant disappointment is thankfully sparing when it comes down to short weekends. Thank the good man before he leaves your petals in a state of disrepair and frugal imitation. This is not a lie nor is it a truth for the better part of thinking about it.

            Whisk away the top and stunt the trap before the cosmology becomes its own gigantic principle without a theorist or a windshield to guide it. Let's not have another apocalypse of sauces, shall we? No matter what your orientation this planet of ours is not for piling on top of attic space. The dust is fraudulent, will lead you to the corner of some vile and brooding rainbow thought. To see past the glasses is to travel to thirty mountains without paying a dime or a pound. The dork shall shatter the geek and bring forth the dweeb with little other than a wise guy. It's a town for cities, this place; it's a place for worship. The day is running out to the shops in order to steal all the precious furniture and to take names for some nefarious project. It's ring leader is a hysterical womb that shanks the elbow storm and transmogrifies it into a plate of locus locusts.

            You do it, I can't go on without seeing the hoods fall from a trampoline. It's my pleasure to see you without your pockets in, it merely increases my foul-mouthed distribution. Compliments are for the desperado and his kin, leave it in the heart of sand dunes and just walk away.