poem.

Fictional Poster Child

Narcissistic egg layers and stretched out laryngitis landing pads became fresh kitsch TV dinner just like in the movies. Biking through the BladeRunner tunnel on a daily basis continues to act as a face lift for chemical imbalances and nuclear membranes. Patronizing my knotty ligaments

sometimes

gets milk to shoot through my nose. Let me tell you what happened last night while you were choking on oxygen and dust bunnies. All of a sudden we were in the park but really in Ireland with cliffs under our knees. Backdrop fiber glass bricks made better intents than your fists. King Kong doesn't live here any more. And all

you

can say is something or another about the weather vanes in Kansas becoming extinct like the partiarchy. I can't wait for the popcorn or your acned back to hatch. It's 8 o clock,

are

you coming in my mouth or on my ear because the blindfold you left on left skid marks. This is getting a bit too extroverted for an afternoon luncheon. Wherever did you get that hot sauce sucking routine? We were floating on mattresses and title waves enacted their eminent domain

everywhere I

forgot my sunglasses. It was my first blockhead carving and cellular mysticism all wrapped up in 2 concise spheres. This is entertainment. This is an octopus. This is just what's been between most of my fat layers and physical sheet slappers for 10 years now. Man times a grasshopper and I can't smoke enough. Don't believe me? Just take a

look.