I was in the pants of a young thread, filters and all on the loose nails.
Lecherous nails of loose dress threads, fingers located the threads after her underwear had wings and could find the power to soar into the cliff, but Issac crept into a cave instead.
File cabinets along the labia of the cliff a short drop from the butt hole of her earth worms for eye sores.
Shit! She asked me to do it. Her hands were thick!
A hose leads after him flying away, Issac!
after the panties, two forks and a knife all ready to eat up.
His bottom, the threads unraveled her panties onto a face which was his
they took refuge in the skin over the eyelids set out on dis[play] near a grocery store on the street in our town near the grocery store.
Web address entered the park to play with her too long threads comforting Tommy's facial hair.
Sheep are deadly introduction.
Skeletons fly down the hose, she pushes them out of her cave and lifts up her poison panties to her belly button and smiles. She thanks me for taking her under my belly button and the threshing machine of love starts thinking we need to get married or something like that.
(I finger the labia softly, make sure she isn't leaking anymore of my skeletons.)
A few more dead guys come bye, down the hose thrown from the opening of the cave and then the water runs.
I go inside. Sit down next to her in my pajamas and fiddle with my strings.
Tuning the threads jutting under a little part of the cigar box, I open the chest cavity to expose my inner-workings to her and everybody else around the chess table.
They look inside and I fiddle with the pick-ups, loosening the strings so that I can reach inside with my screw driver.
A couple of turns to the right, another turn to the left, a tiny pause and a clasping on the edge of the box mates with a thin smile, then the strumming starts under my shivering palm.
Chess needs heartstrings. Music with the intentions of melody whether sleep or frustrated,hatred, longing, danger, fear, panic, fright.
The chess is frightening to watch without a heart string cigar box guitar. I got this at a pawn shop for twenty twenty vision. I got another twenty twenty vision somewhere else after stumbling for a lot of weeks with the box but no, nothing else. A house arrives to the tournament.
Torture chambers roll by then a butcher shop and a door and a window where a family handles food. A few fresh smiling mothers, daughters, in tuxedo, bow ties, white shirts black everything else.
**Stop motion worms foil a drain pipe noise museum into wizard tears,
through the one worded frogs, in the simple shape of the plastic soil
the vampire .
Geese take the stage
and give mean Hyena a weird name for Christmas
Vertical orange peels walls wheel to the chimney
as a Chandelier
form figure and shirt sleeve tidy on the rump dump fortress.
Quiet angles do share their pie.
Dance gold teeth (wizard fruit) tight eve hunt former hung camera worm –taste furnishes thought– details cigarettes Dwight
furl or leaves sew down thin meter wheat thins curl ovaries, oranges. Library under the sea, turning. Down frog hunt do we ambiguous the strawberry fields
frowning clown frown may
wolf enter fluids wall owl make up make up up in Oreo French camper kw-qok-woqk-woqk sap folds out the lipids in my walk in my tree
**:It's coming closer