02 Cars from Mars

Jumper Evils

Puddling with jumpers — races after epiphanies —

a defender of splendor, with a spoon for the moon. Shadows fetch through darkness after strains of ugliness, wistful and yearning, tremblers a tyranny of honor and lust. Defiant from reason.

Bursts of the holy moly is a resistance to future.

Waves bathe in wonder battling with a fire of emptiness. This emptiness is space to jump through.

Soul body cut loose, meaning bursting through confines —

Glory numbers, slippery reckonings with brute gruesome. Both gruesome and hop’less still fill pill, and the cat slips under the mat choking.

Swoons against the distance — shifts into rapidly sifting views.

perceptions find clearance to reverberate and imbue, in swift. and hue.

sudden exponentials turn fizzy with buzzing cruces —

enshrined in beauty of all kinds.

rapturous negative beauty philanders deferentially with morbid exuberance —

searching sift for ceiling at edges of destruction. To get the heart climbing.

Moving on from pastiche?

Unruly, raging counterintuitive horn of love. 

clucking and looting unduly have a beauty of their enchants.

But cages near glorious near rabid defiance, but what of that matters “most” to Hester, Lucy, Victor, Dirty, Nasty, Lulu, Haute… etc

New ones arrive all the time. Chars are dreamers and thieves.

briil for skill windmill round the nil —

raw and useless rebellion hostile, aggressive, inclement —

chars came to engage with “the other” as impetus. As crisis of their birth.

Cot Tons

rabbit’s foot because humor (theirs helps) saves me,

maniacal moles that big dig for tunnels of madness and love —

A rash child-like madness as the only “way out.”

absurdist punter struggles with haywire.

Launching on deli meat

The good thing goes South when sickness intercedes, lets itself devour/be devoured, gusting. sublimates in medium.

Lives for it. Conceptious conceits (a la shakespeare). mystery of its powers over me. Is riveting. Feast of the parallax — with diderot and. mencken.

Always astonishing, that then quite often finds me lacking —

Suffering Solip Sis

sickness intercedes is burroughs beckoning as a switch,

cherish his reach

and permeate of parallax with suffering solipsist.

Then BB Becks bursts out, “Its a Sanctuary of flees.”

Coocoo hello hello. Says: eek aangel, eek angel.

and “loyal royal” conversion lets dance in lead.

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