14/05/2014 - CAUGHT HIM THE OTHER DAY

Caught him the other day with his lease back to front for criminal facial expressions. This is exactly what would happen in a play, to play and to pore over character and the people who they’re based on who still haven’t yet paid. It’s not the dome that canters into problematic bodybuilding, it’s the degradation of the state of decayed desecration. The mathematics are all there and staring for a good shameless while for the elderly husband in case he wants to choke or bruise his savings some more. Flushing his toilet’s like going into another world where the water is blue-green and the film constantly playing is of a Bongo drum being steadily yanked apart by the power of centrifugal force…

…it’s not every day that lying down on beach towels can be perceived as a hostile retainer for the blameless racket ball game. They’ll clean you nails and sniff them later. Now maybe I can return to my fucked-up, fucked-off bit of pool. I had conversation with a side of salads. By myself, I can’t catch up, I have to avenge my warped and wrapped-up heart blanket for the same of a realistic moment before his father tracks you down and makes you eat quilt for the rest of your curtain-twitching and blind person mocking. I didn’t make me want to mate with any hexagons so that you can’t harass  me. I’ll throw the bottle against her head but it might not keep the water running. Two more emotional and intelligent to learn about a luncheon and delicate hands.

May smoking paperclips guide you to a restless sleep with the very thought of a short story liar attending to superhero facsimiles from dramatic tension to dramatic tension. You rearrange and see the rectangle in all things, the indispensible material of makeshift and shirtless livery like a bad mother. Too cool for chiropractic school, too radical for the seventh age of The Width Colony. Well-remembered be/the rules of history/a crusty principle without phone tails or romantic inclination that would otherwise turn haberdasher whilst eating ginger winter via its reddening snowflakes and drowned out power chords. Books on a far off world = novels involved in the climate change + personal recuperation. Angels have big teeth and even they have something hard-up to say about the vitrifying plausibility of this workaday event on videogame butter churns. The daughter inundates immunisation jabs just to be the one she loves for a few matter-of-fact seconds. Set the plates to the higher table.

Diary of mist and westernised tulips I bloom. Comedians falling flat on their bodices. Numbers wrinkling because the value has chipped away in time for slanderous remarks in a past life. Good to see you when you really mean have at thee, ignoble trout. Sleep tight and make comedy a fixture of love and hydrogenised atoms. Come straight for the house, leave away from the dollies. You hear a word and that word starts the whole thing up again. Six weeks.