Tuesday, 4 February 2014

04/02/2014 - LET'S THREATEN VIOLENCE

            Let's threaten violence against innocent mayors, it increases funding and allows for cancerous healthcare. This was instilled from elementary school, we now care very much about jail time and due process because love means so much to our crashing erections. The world is drumming up a Jamaican beat in preparation of our saucy misconduct, our deviant asking that goes on for artistic centuries without the wider population's poop's allowance. For the life in me, I cannot tell a lie from a sealed envelope, it would be presumptuous of me to even smash biblical doctrine without a heavy hand or a curt eyebrow. We're really just all slamming for support, we're all thrumming and strumming for acceptance of pineapples as illegal immigrants we let in anyway. This is simply the scenic route and only takes up an instrumental of our time, the time we all stole the day we were born. City officials are allowed close to dogs only when they have prepared statements to the effect of a blanket of scoops. Interns are of the green, inside an independent plane stepping down to the mesa. Feel the smooth obsidian walls and shout like a Slavic with two hoods on either side of his head. Someone called this waylaying with burning emails until they're burnt husks of electronic messages. As for the mayor, this is vagrant territory, government issue, humane choice, a good way to go to gout anyway. Tis irrespective of retirement. Tis pretty excellent and exiled maybe. Tis a whispering koala with a future set in stone and a sun pulling back the past to a harp strain. Inhale/exhale tiny planet. Exhale/inhale incumbent performance. Polymer tastes of bleary smiles and repurposed blessings shot through with salt. Say goodnight with ears on, welcome the commonplace, produce for free like a wage slave. You want to have your talents recognised? You don't deserve to have your talents recognise. Your talons, on the other hand, have absolutely no relevance to pronoun proverbs. We wish you to see the esoteric with gaudy figs glowing on your breast. They spit in bathrooms and they spit for you like it was you all along and that sink is your promises. They don't have your grave yet but that's only a matter of time and comfortable space within time zones and tree branches. Stuff the stuff with stuffy stuff whilst stuff is all stuff and stiff remains stifled.

            A pickle is what I say. A nickel is what you say. A building is where we go to launch our memories onto blank harnesses. A lighthouse is what we turn this building into. A light is a glow point. Our light is our glow point. You forget about China. I forgive all of Tibet. I place a hold on hope for the tasty reviews. I place the reviews on you. I grab the staple gun and press. Your hair is colourful now. Your strands are without bands and bang is the only word you seem to be capable of saying.

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