The Mezunian

No genre goes unnoticed in this list: From photos blurred in backdrops flush with filters To paintings brushed just like impressionists (Though some I note from other sites are pilfered). Although I find your watermark distracts From screaming natural unnat’ral glows, ‘Least you adjusted all their hues & blacks ‘Way from their boring, ordinary tones. […]

(Accompanying music.) Your browser does not support the audio element. In hot sun ants bring peas home in computer.

Hey. I saw what you’re trying to do-- & I can tell you right now, it won’t work. You’re trying to sneak into a li’l niche through you infirmities, ¿Sí? You thought you could ‘scape. You were wrong. We found you out like a trout, flopping flippantly like febrile phalluses, spraying your jizz all o’er […]

No pueden salir volando las mariposas. No me importa si están listo: necesito su calor. Pero mientras trato de guardarla en su tarro, aletean lejos las otras; y mientras trato de reconquistarlas, la ultima me deja y me deja sentirme bastante frío. Basta, ya. Entonces es mejor que yo use prudentemente mis reservas, porque dudo […]

Bitter punch only tastes sweet when one has someone else to aim it @.

& no, you can’t scroll down the inner window with that scroll bar on the right; that inner window is fixed tighter than a Zax. Nor does pressing Enter work. The good news is that I was able to later get in thanks to ‘nother common web design flaw: good ol’ inconsistent design.

You probably think this is some kind o’ joke, some kind o’ game. I bet you think it’s a true dickslapper, you cock-nosed pile o’ cu-- No! No, it’s worse! You think this isn’t funny! You’re sitting there bored, saying to yourself, “Yeah, yeah: you’re a freak; I got it, bro.” Well, let me tell […]

Suddenly, finally, I woke from that long, fevered dream, only to find myself in an empty, dark void. Damn.

I. A soufflé carefully cooked, hour by hour... SLAM! Oven door’s open 1 second suddenly. It’s dead. I can hear the bomb ticking in my brain... I can feel the knife scraping my neck & forehead; constricting, suffocation, moldy blue skin. A tepid leaf floating flimsily on the edge o’ a bough till the hands […]