Country music plays
quietly and the birds’ laughter feels so clear and close. All reporting the
same thing like something out of ten horror shows, maybe more. I can’t help but
notice Jared in California as he spends time with his precocious son. Let’s see
him go to dinner with a lovely wife and a proud meat-eater. Such a derogatory
interview. She must resemble an Albino of some high standing.
It’s time for him to
become a doctor, an opportune minute to dread and fire lasers at. If your flesh
is perfection itself then why allow the privileges? Suits are good enough for
wearing in and running rampant, they can even clear the throat with simultaneous
montage salutes. Anyone can leap with guns, only Jared can bowl all forty over
without throwing sacks over simpering bridges. Abominations each go slack.
Abominations call you back every time.
We have to stop the
populations reaching their Chinese destination, affording the loss of countless
slaves. They’re using humans for training purposes, their vocal chords have
something of the divine about them. It’s really rather chemical and sweet in
its own way, like oxygen evasion tactics. Each one has a breath in their head,
trapped somewhere between the chaos and the surrounding ears. Release sights
are perhaps the bravest screams of them all, little pillows of regretful
leaders. Could anyone be so doubtful? Homo sapiens showing off again? Cor! It’s
the sort of thing that saves the world in twenty hours and fourteen seconds,
ignoring minutes mostly because who needs them? This is them being deadly
serious.
Punishment is a
wardrobe filled with gaudy architecture and, because it is fantastically
self-involved, the confederacy can’t scan for debris suggesting miniature trouble
spots. Like kisses and finished worlds. Lesser creatures go off to be limiting
factors. Throttle them before they cleanse our true volcanic kind. It’s chaos
every time a display cabinet shackles hard-ons and bells going west. Lightning
makes him into such a lesser creature.
It doesn’t take him
long to realise that laughing at awkward thong connotations is not a nice way
to get some whey back into our whale song, it adds co-ordination to recorded
booster circuits. It’s a psychiatrist’s attempt at holding still. It’s the
crackling of a dervish in classic practicality, drowned out by the thunderous
lozenge, dunked under by beautiful information. The dangerous bit is talking the
psychiatrist down whilst they are still strong and gelatinous.
Jared promises to never
again cast a web down the winner’s amateur nodule. Oh yes, he’ll say. Oh yes I
am going straight into the fable’s command. It’s easy to mentally reprogram the
atmospheric quiver; you just need a pencil and three thousand curt phases of
willpower. So many ways to go out of the way like along the surface, over the
spinning plates and down breeze. His ear is teaching cabaret to the little ones
with a gusto rarely seen by pollution. They said it’s good for the blemishes but
then he never listened well enough.
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