19 Apr 2008

Lustily Growing Breasts 2

Broken by distortion, the street flew over eternal gratitude, dripped from her atomic existence, resumed guarding the flowers of Eden. Metal scorched for them, the root in futures not yet tongued by a love that kills. Desultory spirals, the nexus of a lost dialect's adrenaline shimmering in the turquoise glow shorn of its electric negation. Their meander scrawled the legend of now on the sky. Mists imagined, clustering in the quantum vice versa'd along her shins. Looming in silent circuitry spelled a vivid realm to its breaking point, grand narratives the key to sinew, towering burial chords, one answer to make mere repetition unentangle the sheer blank opening her womb area. It's their world, never seen from afar yet, beaten in all-night's gaping dual-colour pointillism, the sky's regular pistol branched to her node that can miasma everything at once's attachment to sine waves. The vapid null of her vowels, skeletons and synchronicity piled atop bleeding, grey slabs of text busily prepared to throw hallelujah's process to daylight. Egregious beneath the annihilate, broken blues massed to vacuum his dream of an odalisqued trickle into what lives in the speaker's gift, hollow as this wind's deserted courtyard after its spine follows the rest. The swallowed comradely is aquamarine with harsh mysticism, it flowers and licks liquor for adverbs, a few stiff drinks to vulva the stars, digital and younger. Blank thumbs, equally automatic to swig the terrible zone, viewed remotely lifting her skirt's emblematic. Injected combustion has plenty to say about that umbrella and breaking antidoted laws, repertoires that tan without any activation from adagio. Their light centered on what was entwined with ripe streams, fifty muscles encroached upon by answers that come before snagged, forgotten, never stirring the thunder that would trail strangely enough. Making ice to flash somewhere into flesh, knee-deep in a kiss that moves closer. Dreaming a billion oceans torn from the first day's oldest ceremony, nothing at all must be apart where she quartzed. the slit fell heavily for all time renewed as a jaw, neurology within the pews still hungry after all this time, throats abandoned by tight jets of blue-jean in an alleyway. Bells keep plasma at bay, polyphony dripped from money, psychic rows of teeth. A coin fell from his bitter chemical exchange, beiges withdrawn from miracle clothing. Danced particles along the edges of carpet laid on that which is carbon-based before finally alighting on feathers quickly eaten by his lurch. Amusement soaked into rapidly purpling lips, she managed to pause magic and life while he fingered nothing, devices that disclosed other moans. Elbows of dirty echo marred by the twitch implied in masturbation, each corrugate alive with parallel sockets, awake to feed her television. Braced for disruption, they routinely pose with the spirit of a trope, third intuitions intended to video aliens and their discoloured lungs, unfolded rays open to murmuring styles and design. Captured with oxygen's morning glory, a citrus of window to lick. Cascades known by heart deny her tissue as cognitive mercy because after all the brilliant fires lit for the sake of economics, passion has become a trigger again, a disgust for psychology and its lost husbands and gang-raped verbs. A different fountain wrapped in the outside writing to sixty-two revolutions interested in screenplays from the cosmos, solitude's meridian, empty barnacled dynamics. It's written by drips of linger, gasped union poking days into greased motions for shocked detritus when enamored rains its centrifugal cry, deadly rainbows that crevice between their skulls. Trees conversed with her when he wasn't around, told her how words could dream meanings gained and meanings lost without ever coming to the cusp of insanity. The soft fragrance of the lion, meat passed to what lies beyond liberty, a peeping curl. Variants continue to walk, a loving search in sacks of E minor, triangles, the equal little head of a mutation with wings that sing to Ra. All debts to pearls that never anyone into action, a bouquet of her ample concerto, structured layers made unexplainable by their nymphomania. Elegant sources, asteroid dandelions are not turning her stem like they used to, another reason to remedy the speed of light when it's stricken with arched slits, the thistle where pupils should be kept. An ache of pistol spent her on what is epistolary about colliding nipples, she is porcelain's air stranded on an excerpt of unruly, curious escape. Virgin arpeggios like his large evening praised, still ashen and an observer of Baroque precision. Compressed with sweet, heathenly vice and pouring its entropy wink to the interface. Prison rests in the left tendon pictured with a fiery hour that only wants to shed the metropolis stuck to its microtonal field, to understand the pink asunder ionizing velvet for a time of delusion. Carnal masks that beard then flee as the cocaine century delivered names like dew, an eleven of his pleasure. Solid selves approached by the iambic gyrate on her neck in sorrow at the millennial preface, half interviewed, half phalanx as open revolt. Invisible on a million knuckles, painting many years of pain before his ellipse stopped ringing, vertical nooks of starlight activity for two, a red-enough stab in the direction of her bald anyway. Vertigo sifted through them, shared whistles from long ago, the radio and a portrait of feet listening to the swirl of immense shades of cellophane. The network is short of staccato in exile. Perfect joy extracts a lid of vision without any splash, the hiss that sinks into heroin, its diagrammed paraphrase and belief. So, simultaneous from a rejoiced utter, bushels among logistic gashes disabled because entertainments do not concubine their initial twice as optical semen. Unencumbered by the squadron of repression, media like all else is false, he sipped at his dread's steaming empty as she typed impossibly green. The graceful lines of her shoulder laughed at the nebulous welt left in her dream, a lightning flash at how the crusade became his unhinged torso. Her river will never be year zero adorned when they genuflect before phantasms and wet visions that returned anarchy back to a breeze passing over her thigh's deep, luscious aquamarine.

8 comments:

cocaine jesus said...

a tour de force.
a poetic powerhouse.
your stairway to heaven.

Robert said...

it sure was a trip to write, CJ :)

Robert said...

and thanks so much, CJ :D

TICTAC said...

the power of words can set a read on fire!
!a m a z i n g work, robert!

kek-w said...

Woaaah!

Lazare said...

fuckintastic ecstasy

mo fire!

Robert said...

you lot are too sweet

*blushes all commie red*

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