I
Nestling
Things deep
II
Dark trance
Spatial potato
III
Somnambulist
Ambulance
IV
Black goo
Stretching
V
Long, thin cords
Bunching middles
VI
One less arm
An outstretched grab
VII
Indian Sunburn
Noogies
VIII
Lemon stench
Burning onion eyes
IX
Long pockets
Ghosts' mouths
X
Duct-taped
Knives for fingers
XI
Scorpion eyes
Eighteen sets
XII
Jaw structure
Wrecking balled
XIII
The corporation
Demanded granite
XIV
Trespassing leads
Two kids to flames
XV
Eyes as salt
Tripping against counter
XVI
Electric guitar
Within a cave
XVII
Swallowed pills
Swallows still to kill
XVIII
Tremendous march
Shakes floors of hut
XIX
Underneath the sink
Foams hold our ground
XX
Skin of rats
Too much hair allowed
I
Bullets stripped
Post flesh fuck
II
Demons called
Strange motorists
III
Slip up tears
Roots pathed to fall
IV
Audio dining in
Hush to sleep
V
Torch down the hallway
Grab extra batteries
VI
Sleeping on the couch
Crumbs filling cracks
VII
Like bullets rusting
Inside a new gutter
VIII
The logic to proceed
Dismantled sand dunes
IX
One ring ruled zero
Giant orificial bondage
X
Rasping voice post black gas
Vestibule sticker covered
XI
Enlightenment
A blue wall
XII
Nothing is
Rosy scent left overs
XIII
Check out that ass
Thanks for watching
XIV
Bubble gum blown
Onto electro train track
XV
Souped up tune to lead
Trouble inside Camden
XVI
The priest demands
Mistings of moments
XVII
Ears filled with blood
Stampings pressed without
XVIII
Giant smacking of sheets
Please fill Tray Two
XIX
Grope small shell pit
Frozen purple cherry dish
XX
Task varnished over
Snow globe shakes in Winter
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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1 comment:
This reminds me of a shooting range. Romans are the reload. LIne breaks are the kick-back.
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