30 Jan 2008

wart spine politics

Vomit that's sick I can't stand your smell & the dead sea of privileged nothingness,
hey halt what was things last moment, the breast that curdled goats milks laugh milk mustache it floated off in a thought just hinting that i meant i was sorry for all things i missed in this life,
and my current life which is on a spiral decay into an aborted fetus, i know you say I'm not pro-life but that means i can't type like a mad hellbent fungi spoon licker, his son was caressed by my secretary she takes all my calls and gives the best foot rubs, many many years ago since i have been in this administration my wart spine has been deranged and left it's circuits dry, the socket was Left to water down with saliva and alcoholics, the wart spine was no longer part of the inverted lamb speech, but a feast on holidays for tuckering people out made them doze off causing slight delusions of parrot speech, doublethink, the tanks had heels this high body's half below the ground filtering maybe ashes and addictive ingredient's that melted poesy syndrome patients, they played in the vast vagina of the house wife dangle baby's dangle I can't hear you after that sequel, it was just sick to even imagine she wanted to make more.

2 comments:

Robert said...

dadaesque in all its glory

youre on fire, Aaron!

Jaie said...

ahhhh, wicked!!