by Tomorrow's Man
bone dry on the bake
drowned beneath
the lies
if wishes were tadpoles
we'd all eat like porn queens
but the wishes are buried
in the hardbake
guess we'll just have to keep
choking on the rod
maybe a good flood's what this place needs.
Thank You, and God Bless.
come, join me, as i quietly compile a comprehensive, and quite extensive, day from Hell.
There is very little that bodes well about a Monday morning necessity for the phrase "wet fart bubble" to enter one's head with impatient, panicky authority.
Flail, frail, fling your little body at the cyclone swirl, go tiny bird, go! and be dashed into adulthood by your sheer hollow-boned bravery!
Glisten-eye, drying sand keep from you not bad you vaseline-lord, sticky king, retina rule commands all for you as you unblink us face-first into the mud to breathe.
The cat watched the frog. The frog watched the cat. The cat put out a paw. The frog flinched. The cat dropped three chips into the pot, calling the frog's raise. The frog had deuces, king high. Behind her dark shades, the cat's eyes slitted and smiled.
The frog was fried, froggy legs and all.
Hike up one side teeth,
Hike down one side teeth,
Mountaintop molar hindsight climb
Marching tongue sweep me in
sweep me in
taste me