01/01/2014-02/01/2014 - THIS IS THE MIDRIFF

Use rope, tie it loose and fire open the fat arse like the kiln it was made to be. Bring it down, why don’t you, we’re only trapped and good at the flaming tiger paws. The only way out is up so what does that tell us about your frustration with following wills through to their natural conclusion. Do wills even have a natural conclusion? Are they preternatural? Only the panda can decide, the one with the nose of a wolf in the middle of a patrician orgasm. Get the loading of the ship shop done while MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVIE is still tracking various email accounts. Someone else could be the total toerag but theta signifies sigma. That makes no sense but the truth will talk with its feathers offguard. They will keep you far from danger and give you the job of part-time party girl while the going is good and you still get half your gear off a silver platter. Look now. You see how hardcore the hug can be? Stop being a wimp while you’re just better off here. You were wrong soothsayer with your staff aimed in the ancestral direction with trivial horns applied to most forms of subjugation, creating white breakers all across the bank. They wronged me, they wronged me then killed themselves with a slap in the ass. But that don’t mean jack.

They’re updating HUH with operatic popping sounds and wisps of smoke that can thrust their way through the dark to sharpen the cool end of their collective noses. Some seek to question the state of HUH like the WHO that happened on the night that I passed by the red flashing eyelids with the lanterns and smelting accidents they receive on St Crispin’s Day. The HUH is a well-established small-town business that gets them all to go with the green-eyed ape as he chokes himself with tight bandannas and tuning forks. I said that too soon but then I always say stuff too soon and expect an illegal reaction with throbbing baselines and long-running answers. Ask HUH about your souls and they will heal your face fuzz with backhanded compliments and rainy skies. Just say never to the toolbar and see how you feel thereafter. The matriarch and the patriarch are sitting down to dinner but they expect the children to wash up. That is the law and key policy of most of HUH’s subsidiaries.

Fulfil your destiny while it was so little to go out, while it meant so little to the stupid nightmare that tinkered around with your oars and told you of childish wonders and green pastures and various other outlandish, standoffish inequities. The tongue and the tooth and the thriving village will rule the land and divide the kingdom just to show the world that they can in fact handle coming next with flames and hammers. TAKE OUR SON AND RUN AWAY BUT LET YOUR MOTHER LET IT FLOW TO SHOW THEM THEY CAN IN FACT STOP FLIGHTY BANGING.

 

This is the midriff showing itself to the mirror and staying to give off good vibes and a few words of doesn’t that chooses to be better than all the punching of the skies will allow and the pinkies have it all besides with pots and pans and genuflecting geese with their own fairy pot of selective memories and who we ask them to let down in a cordial fashion. Such sad, sad faces that lie on beautiful whisker twitches and front end teeth that start up precious whip rounds for the sake of Sailing China and all the pigs that go along with warthog ideas of population control because the streets fill with lava and nobody is particularly happy about it as far as penchants go. The fire continues for the cowards and the while sharp neck of the while sharply-dressed man with a basket on his head and a stinking accumulation of all the past times and the future times and none of the present times while three to five remains an undivided game of Frisbee golf without the proclamations of taking aim and giving the thumbs up for a resounding, riveting game of chase the cannon while its hot and ready and definitely, definitely not alienating. Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, whatever you do, don’t shoot the catch of freedom especially while its barely begun its priceless scheme with the adjutant’s honesty and puppetry. The crane is lifting like a very quaint caricature of itself and sparkles of mindless indie virus plans.

This is a hat like a penis in the dark and dingy waters of a peacock losing access control over its panty-waist tiger drinks. As of now the policies of the old government have been reinvigorated with a thrifty bounty of ships that were abandoned during the bad parts of the war, The War that is, the one without an ounce of effort put in to finish the drippy arm consequences. Be at peace while I am at ague trying to haggle with fire hydrants for the chance to hassle firework displays for money and methods of screened killings in screened markets. The bunnies will cheer and the beaks they secretly possess will cease their spiralling and start up a douche parade for the sake of raising the children’s sense of hypodermic shoulders. SCARS LIE BEREFT ON THE PASTEBOARD CHINK IN THE PLASTERBOARD ARMOUR OR SO THE SIMPLE SAYING GOES WHILE WE’RE ALL STILL LISTENING WITH MAKESHIFT FEELING.

Do you hear that? They love you, they love the HUH and appreciate your remarks on gonad surgery and the youngest case and point of inner peace that lies in its sunny birthday. I don’t know when the least will happen, I just know that the thematic purpose will be wise and the crates will be stuffed full of shiny trinkets that go on for dragons and say new sayings about old deals. I think I should tell you about it some day but