slutty in their sockets

The street today… technical army munching specialists, a dusty atmosphere of discarded automobiles embedded with vegetables and jewels, cos it’s the season of hand gesture, plastic surgeons with their antique wooden skeletons miming beauty disposable, red lipstick folds real-time upon a face into the latest colour, user unaware, until messaged, crumpled paper in pink fists, a lousy gang of lice, floral patterns expressed in expletive phrases, crosses of the death cult drown in cleavage, pacification verts replace active eyeballs, slutty in their sockets, silver cars loiter next to herb racks waiting for xmas, a doctor of psychosis dresses nicely for one of the old guard, fish entrails and neat theories written in semen, metal sweat suited techno bumps across the tarmac, she has a luscious gritty coating, total war within her blue eyes, I exude an inflatable invisibility, holocaustic criminal etchings in orange suits, silver, leather, faces, black eyed revenge, chopped up earlier, tinted eye window judgement, senseless substances course through a limp, button eyes, stereotyped nose, fire, sticks and twigs of burnished metal, a five ‘O’ clock shadow ruminates on a bench, masturbatory vert, curtains spasm, hate in a soggy gutted pizza recycler, purple sweat stains, the gps location, skin pulled away from muscle, placid fantasies, rotted throat, decorative lace integument, heavy dead eyelids… the corpse had been waiting sometime…