Bug-eyed dolls, the ones with a delicate touch, the ones with a soft voice, the glass eardrums and the glazed nostrils. Taste buds felt up like scars under a skirt. Crawl sideways into the b-b-b-b-b-b...ottle.
Catch flying ice-cream cones with your elephants. GIMMICK GIMMICK GIMMIE MORE.
September ends on another sad note, note how off-key your doorlock was. I'm headed for the deodorant. Comfort.
Six sick fucks, six dix dice players playing with payed-for oxygen, Grandmothers are wondering where they're leaking from. Too many folds, what'll you have for breakfast in 20 years?
Button-mashing never actually wins the fight. Flick morning dew out of your hat.
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3 comments:
New Post PLZ.
HAR HAR, DEE. HEE-LAR-EEE-OUS.
:D <3<3
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