Shopping for Premise
Too far – gone baby gone? hoarding scars of lament affection which holy serve the perv and ride the curve as miracle gutter for passions’ best loved wrongs, songs, righteous ding dongs – devour the worm? Fight for the germ. Gone baby gone.
To approach willful excalibur taboo, sly and the slain, flip it into a holy zoo. Until animals reveal their blessed nostrils, fur, fire, pissing rain.
Desperation burns into a bunny, a jumper, a falling into –
Other Way, Other
Circle up up up wings of flying fate. Yet no what, they pillage down-under. The arterology. (Of penis bulb and vestibuli .)Pronouncing sweet lorn Sybilan pathways: get up, get out, if you have to die – fine.
Blankt, turning Japanese, bows chin. Begins, again. A full dress curtsy lofts of crinoline. Repeats ancient heraldic swear: flaming fuck you?!
Rhymes like it is forever going out of business. Rent dent bent punt cunt hunt, door, The Door, of a swarthy Moor –
Blankt sweating red, Hang It, blushes too, holy reverence/vengeance (opposites are an attraction between corollary contraries, sources sources, measurement).
Blankt’s fingers are pressed together then, first to second and third, and raised, da Vinci da Vinci (so many promises never kept, never die).
In battle for dust that floats and wings that fly.
Nummies of the preying, sweet holy ghosts, going down gunning –
Beauty’s rings of hunger, fate, hate, paddle the dog. Reek beauty seeks -substances and sages, most of all! rages, like foam against beaches. Out in the reaches.
Never fails a sudden dense spray, scaled with dead’ums fish, scales that glimmer and sting – bound and strapped to doom’s argent retroflexive, dire sweetness abreacting (Stock Stage a prosperous cage?) for therein swoons sweet fickle and goons, boons that deign to loop it up on high wire – Nymph du Pavé.
Dead-eyed are lively as hell, fishing through categories to a Point blank. Blankt sings song Ring My Bell, Punkt never relinquishes fires that swell, to wits a poison berry sorting infamy –
For fair thee, where Childe in feudal hood, Kuhnoodles up against holy glut all feckin’ wound up with seas urgent rouges, and angels going all aegis.
Longing and time sleeps where nothingness weeps –
Day by Day, forms a miraculous death. Goody and Woody beat the grill to a sacrificial nobility/improbability, the forlorn going Vetch of variously colored Flowers where borders every escape from day bound fate –
Grist and wisp and bedazzled leeches, heave ho to bear thee a pair of chivalrous Fruit! plighting over every God Damn Blew It, again – in secret scarlet places charged to a holy carnage.
A soul bears curses of every deadly infamy, slyboots.
Privilege being able to write – the fuck all over – these aching flooding skies of virtual and virtues, about Blankt’s way too way to (horse whipped) demises. Hear the birds –
The (throwing for) snakes eyes deuces every day, a thousand cuts. Freedom, always forlorn in search of being reborn, again and again and again. Resurrection fitters and steams so foul and holy aloft with religious longings, duty beauty killer possessed. Slavery is foot in mouth of religion. Every human is a slave to Divine, hums feudal sacrificial division.
Climb high scarp to very Point, where breathless stands in brightness of holy winds, stand your ground, and watch the Golden Hamster hound the lost and found –
Truth all hopped up. Foisted and festering, howling and gesturing, its a clutch, holy grope –
Jump bunny jump! Too Sad Too Bad, hurts like hell, forever being expelled, a Watchman’s solano. The force of angels, angling with fate, take take take –
Death is the bearing weight of birth, teeters so reckless incredulous, cursed, sentimental and perverse, singing – what what what ??
Blankts limbs are dim, lost to the distance like Indian charms – heads carved and stacked to protect the given, in every other land the holies stand – blinking: entrance is the exit.
Hell is for chickens where sickens to a violent lonely plaint gaping blindness coiled and demure? To a bone a wrist a finger a tryst, Slinky gets pinked, molested to a brink –
To your heaven and health! Little death little death.
Little bird little bird –