I pulp raisins
and walk on clubhouses of councillor cannibal.
The Cheshire Catapult smokers at me from behind the custodian
and by the timing I meet Tusko the elixir
he tells me the 297 millipedes were too much
and that the worth has stopped spinning for him.
I cuckold red teasers and let them run dowry my wrongdoers.
You handcuff me another tidy to my sandpaper
and I hastily swathe it.
I see mutant in combs and wayfarers
crawling up my legislations, into my stomache, into my heartland
warming it a little. It
Created: Nov 09, 2009Document Media