“Gotta write the bike in a fight for strife in a dive for pines with leaves for cheese & these are fleas for keys, please,” babbled the idiot as it stuffed greasy peanut butter into its blood-chapped lips & through its unbrushed rusty teeth. But the suffocating pressure o’ the flimsy arm bone o’ the […]
Dijó mi supervisor, —¿Por qué tienes tanto estrés? Hoy es tu viernes. Pero, lo dijé que no necessito sus vierneses; todos los días podrían ser mis vierneses con la ayuda de unas pastillas de cianuro… —So there. Y es por eso que busco para un nuevo trabajo, señor.
Bobgon sighed as he sat on the edge o’ Cookie Mountain, gazing down @ the creamy reflection the moon & the stars left on the bubbling waves o’ Soda Lake. Its clear beauty made his mood rainy. He wanted to watch it fore’er, but knew he couldn’t: sometime soon his fuse would reach its end, […]
I. That afternoon the stars ruled that Nasrin’s bus wouldn’t come. She waited for many minutes with the other students who took her bus & whose names she ne’er learned, expecting it to be late; but after ’bout 10 minutes, other students began to call others to pick them up on their cells. Cars o’ […]
There’s still space on the star-lit streets for smashed pancake crepe styrofoam cartons parting my commercial from my residence, presenting the present o’ presenceless. It all makes senselessness. I love the black boughs so snug in the black sky so tight in this black universe so terse. But I don’t like the seekers, the flashbulb […]
It’s the cream in your cup, it’s the feather in your cap, it’s the dice in your hands, it’s the flab in your pan, it’s the color o’ leaves, it’s the holes in cartoon cheese, it’s your knees’ bees, it’s crease in your jeans, it’s the tingling in your knickers, it’s the warning before every […]
with the scent o’ berries, too; smudged on smoky sidewalk chalk. Chalk it up to moonlit blues, choking me up harshly soft. Chatter dead is better than dead silence wand’ring wolfen streets on urban hills that never bend & shatters into icy neon. Moonlight full o’ foggy capes, follow me through thin-black japes’ scarecrow boughs […]
Gen I apparently isn’t the only 1 with derpmons.
I. You think you’re safe from the HAND. You’re wrong. Nobody can ‘scape its righteous wrath. We are mere flesh bags with brains full o’ insects compared to our deductive master. Don’t be prideful ‘nough to think you are free from its natural unnatural rule— to this mighty fist stomping on inferior human minds fore’er […]
Die Blätter sind weg. Jetze ist alles weg… The leaves are gone. Now everything is gone…
