Capturing the spirit of the
Muggy Monsoon and its fifty-one-year-old neighbour with her continental jeans
and paid priesthood. The roads have their own problems to deal with, various,
but always queue up to see just how badly she can make herself out in the light
of a day of official tax evasion. The lamplight goes straight to the trash in
that house and there are men with markings all over their Kurdish features. The
others went to Jericho
for a bullet in the hive. The ready one is too ready for its own good, too
ready to stay alive with shiny silver jumping out of it. This is the breakfast
of charlatans with the wheat and wheat by-product stacked up and stand-alone in
terms of the muesli final print. There’s a blade where the table leg should be.
The hair in sector seven is growing back with applicable kills and coma patient
awareness. It brought its friends along to warn you that the movie will go on
into the night whether you watch it or observe it or NOT
Air is changing for your
answer, filing itself with holes and other visceral qualities that are in some
small way indefinable and pocketed by tall bus drivers. Can the killer come
along with the ladykiller song? The red lights dictate it to be so or at least
they would when I look and pass judgement or anybody that is indeed here for
the infra-blue. It blows out the ear drum like opera music and makes a cowboy
hat for some gutsy grey thing with the party favours of half a generation and a
third of a decade. Come hither for your punishment and be sure to stand up
straight for the bleeding of your brothers, your weaker brothers with their gas
masks and separation anxiety. Too long to fight through the pain, it’s just too
tight like a ponytail with sharp bits and odious remarks about those sharp bits
from shark feathers to other shark feathers. The record plays up again and the
red mark is going all the way to Jericho.
Too many mouths to feed and not enough PRAYER
The virtuous reservation
completes itself, recompenses itself all the way to the railway line and
becomes systematic to begin the factions of apologetic stoppers. You two get a
boat, you and that tail picker with the ten-gallon hat. You’re an exotic
possessor, not a glass of wine for fun’s sake or a stone clear of its
detective. She talked about him like she wanted to be the kind of mind every
man wants to look down on secretly, in his passing gamma stammer of aim. All
those years of yours and to think about the church’s indiscretions is still a
crime worthy of slander. Even without the clergy I am still a priest of a sort
and need to have all the questions I have about this chaste neighbourhood thundered
into the ground. I sense a painless death and shall leave it at that because
who can say MORE?
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