the brain loaf that flayed ever presently

congratulations on the understem cerebrum that atrophied right before our very eyes.
the nubian crown prince of demography picked himself up off the sidewalk with the alacrity of a half dozen steam shovels. that guy taped stilts to his legs in an attempt to bypass the flow of clothed apes barking in unison on sleek asphalt.













we placed tape over her eyes to prevent the sun from leaking in. she knew the prince from back when people would talk between their knuckles in public. now we murmur with grunts that rival the echoes of our ancestors' hollow knock of shovel on coffin.

whatever, wherever you are, in minus space time or plus soul time

solipsism. the aura defined. channeling the innermost desires of eden. radiate this starburst canal along the interstellar highways devoid of light.





















submerge the collective mind in plasma.




















we languish nakedly upon pillars of dust and decay.

who's leaking out of you now? (gravity's anus the dark shore of resistance edition)

partial lincecum. the dark rot of a miasmic minamilism. who were the gatekeepers of our plentitude of mutilation? when the caller came knocking it was well past three in the afternoon. "this ground is crying" he said pointing into the blaze of a thousand millions helium solar parcibles.
















by the time eddie from vargas came to help the pretarded had already gathered on the front walkway. a multitude of gawking. like amputated ants struggling through their legless apartheid. we soaked our poodles in wet limestone and gravel.















the skies opened up with the vengeance of the ignorant. caught bewteen crossfires of god's veins. we bleed out our eye sockets.














the pain takes us away on sheets of grandeur.

the zygote looks back at itself with alarm

the first thrusting hip quake to which these simian now invent pants and the written word. gyration of the universe the egg that vibrates betwixt the legs of the cosmos. god's pelvis the switchblade that opens the main arterial pathways from you to me.

utopia magnified upon itself becomes dystopia. we crush the membranes of our souls with the ease of a nucleus beshat atop the ruin of the yolk of ages.

daddy can we turn this on

they mask their messages in tubes that descend our earthly bounds. at one point in our development we scribed our interactions upon buried walls. a constant preparation for the return. now we metal our aspirations encased among vacuums and smashed atoms.

the godhead a torpedo smashing though our submerged ideals. we pray, we pray. we walk on top of the stars.

penetrate this space brain quitoxicly through seeming

part time licker, half king randomly. sleeting pelvis that rocks the hip gently. 3-2-1- contract.

blast off. last off the roof biosphere to which the lolling peasant bound to earth kneel.

a gardener of the dreamscape prodding the ocean floor of the reverse membrane universe. he looks upon thee. always in vain.

zone market differential and the by and by

the intelligence riots in abundant rath and energy. those that seek the comfort of white noise struggle to subjigate their own realities, echoed by the resistance of piercing magnetic raydon.

this beats a mule ride...
petulant noisemakers hath not the penitence to belong to yesteryear.

the voice of god is never silent, much like the asphalt of our dreams that we smack our subconscious upon daily, and with good fortune