Thursday, 3 April 2014

03/04/2014 - SO VERY MEAN, SO VERY HEAVY

            So very mean, so very heavy, so must we be. The cup has dithered long enough and now is the time to rise up in pinkish shirts to slay the Cowboys and Indians action figures and their racist connotations. The era of hombres has begun - saddle up, pardner. This the new speed of the CD, it's the hype that has its own immortal barcode. All the women in this vicinity have taken up masturbation as soon as my last breath. This was not my doing, obviously. This was the hereditary encapsulation of the alienated spirit taking effect in drastic coin-tossing mannerisms. It all really depends. It all cannot help but be cannon fodder for the purgatory of being thrown head and ankle first out of the window. If you see anything suspicious just move on and wish me well in all my future conquests of mind, body and sometimes spirit.
                                                            How very transparent of you, how very translucent of you, how very opaque of you: these are your choices. Feed them to your rush hour grundle, call up all major broadcasting networks to express the mess that your heart has just been lain into. Gesticulate with gigawatts and come off the boil before the superintendent sees your there and always have been. The watch are tanning at the end of the month, get your ambitious third series out of the way then. Bodyguards are nowhere near as Oswald. This means the seeds are devastating not even of British Secret Intelligence - how on earth can we trust the phrase 'Ta-Dah'? So ultra and yet without distinctive healing powers. At least it has the right fingers to work the control box.
                                                                        The burial ceremony will commence at nineteen thirty. The Yorkshire police, Yorkshire's Finest, will execute finesse like cheese cutting through wire. The killers will have to check their contracts and bleed on the dotted line before the keyboard juice stops hanging on with hellish butt. Sororities and fraternities will march the barricade and tamper with all the bus shelter seats just to screw with the bashful populism excited by all the lesbian titillation. Guardians of Flat Pack meet the Fiercest Laundry to make a classic piece of children's literature come alive again in ways that the author never formerly believed were possible. Imaginations are limited by the fear of order, the strictness of elucidation without hallucination. Time will tell the fruit machine.

            Who feels like anything from the salad bar? Who art thou to speak of me in this way? You're a spring-load trap is all you are. The curdled smash of happy records being sent forth into the knifeman's stronghold as an expression of disbelief. The moments are as morose as a shit grin. On the night that we are drunk, we shall see revelations transpire and arouse the penetration of healthy nineteen thirty right in the buxom configuration. The humanity it will lose will be staggering but the scissor kicks and urinary tract infections will surpass mortal teaching.

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