Cool Cranberry Horsehaired Mouth Cluttered With Apple Cores
and so, i suffered from an awful frenzy of collapsed assumptions.
Regardless, I tried to pick my nose on the handlebars of willowed macaroons as they tripped towards the vestibule of Tracy's funeral parlor and danced in the middle of the ice block where Super Spade directed jellied traffic to the high way of chewed Bazooka bubble gum and fat city dog kennels.
Needless to say, REVOLUTION NOW -- now spinning -- now now -- invisible -- now floating -- somewhere -- outthere -- waiting to grind someone's brain. Someone questioning Something without getting Somewhere and Somehow losing inner rest while revolution g o e s spinning -- floating -- outthere -- somewhere -- waiting to grind someone's brain.
Never-The-Less, Walter Slezax pumped the pomegranite until the concrete swill of crisp clear delusions squeezed the galaxies between the corniced web of my purple laughing cheeks.
but i did tell the personnel manager and his shirt and tie and parted hair that i would accept three dollars an hour for fifty forty hour five day weeks and fully appreciate the overwhelming opportunity to do what i wanted to get done on all those fast backed saturdays, sundays, legal holidays and two-week vacations where all those wide-haired nipples suck the fun life.
Besides Chemical Heaven IS an old faithful preacher delivering sermons on the impossibility of f i g h t i n g p a r a n o i a w i t h PARANOIA while hecklers mill about a Mercedes Benz waiting to be taught old trips.
SPOON DOON MOON COON HEY SPOON YOU'RE A BUNDLE O' JOY YOU'RE AN UGLY MOTHERFUCKER BUT YOU'RE STILL MY BOY. yea. yea.
FLASH
striking results of guidelines -- between 1960 and 1965 profits went up by 52% after taxes -- dividend payments to stockholders increased by 43% -- the weekly after tax take home pay of factory workers was up by only 21% -- oh yes -- ho hum............
AFTERALL: i need a sick school teacher lover for two weeks to teach me where it's at. somebody ugly anyway. i hate moles. anyone who could compare my age with the calendar of idols and damn my drugged infancy for its bleating canals and cornponed nostalgia. HOWEVER, i don't want to kiss her. but i need to. i need you. i just want to hold you...you. you really gottahold on mi. i say you really got a hold on me. you really do. and so they do. reely. speaking of all these incredulous thoughtsmellsofyodel. and i want to know why i consent to words when so many other possible scenes do really exist for some who are on welfare.
I say what I have seen and believe and whoever says I have not seen what I have seen, I will now tear off his head.
THE D I G G E R S .
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