Monday 2 June 2014

02/06/2014 - I FORGOT ABOUT THE ROUGE SEWAGE

I forgot about the rouge sewage, I REFUSE TO PLAY UP TO THE WEAK TEA SOME GUY. Climbing GLITCHES makes me like everyone so DON’T FEEL special. I’m serious. Queef vengeance, that’s what I’ve been told to say just so YOU CAN MAKE TENNIS BALLS. I didn’t see, I like PRESIDENTS as interpreted by the movies and the letter YES.  Tell me where you’re going, where you plan to go and how diagonal, along which wall, with which code. Avant-garde music SQUARED. Motherfucker avast! I’m heaving a fever dream because the lacked fox told me to be fucking awesome BUT NOT ON THE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT.
How we flesh, how we Ebola, how grounds, how grinds, paper hats with different levels and glacial tiers. The numb portal on the hocked-up computer. Ergo cute separation as heard by beef sinks. This is another glitch on the pop record with silly step stools. I THINK THE BIGGEST ONE WAS A STARK CONTRAST TO LEGS BEING RAISED BY NEW PEOPLE ON GLOWING NETWORKS WITHOUT NEVER HAVING TO HEAVE VIRALITY ONTO CHEAP CHEEPS. It has not been twenty years since the snores became hereditary and filled with remorse from an egg cup without company time or buzz words to be kicked around. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ERASMUS? DOES HE HAVE A STANDARD? He has nothing on Cerberus, all he has is strong words with minimum connectivity. Make me a friend for nothing.
Never again woks. Skies filled with closed calls and bought-out wooden stocks. This is seventeen percent of most basketball games without sorry cisterns. You know what worries me about the writing? The broker slips a chin right on a café place window, not the one you were thinking of last aspect. Buttering down the hallways with corridor high fives, YOU FEEL WELCOMED.
                                                                        Come forth now and help thy daughter like a revolution that your affairs had at some point because they were SICK AND TIRED OF castanets in the blind man's bluff. The dog scratches its tail and the cat molests the mouse before chucking its measly chin. No whiskers involved, that kind of dope requires a statement and some MONETARY BOLSTERING. You stopped with your envelope tearing and it got you all the way down the line of kings so you'll move onto the queens, that's inevitable and charitable like a drunk choirboy slamming videogames for violence. SOME might say you're a saviour in yellow, a hovering halo with a hoover under your jacket.

                But we've had it up to here with you, up along there like a mantelpiece barrister who's only just discovered that the vouchers he kept in his back pocket have an eye for the delights of disco and ghetto music just brings them down, down, dooby-doo. In five minutes, tomorrow will be HERE AS A WRACK, AS A JUGULAR that stands up all by itself to make espionage difficult so much so that walking in puddles is a preferable career choice when in fact it is a killer. 

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