Monday, April 6, 2009

festival of mirrors

seen by telescope, quite plainly, a muppet jacking off in an alley.
quite contrary, i do say. the captain coughed his eye out.
but do take note of the times; a slapped mollusk spent uptown
what jacks read in the roll
a ninety to one shot, dead on
wincing in the mulligan's bluff.
not unlike the thrush, spun on a root beer float... dead ahead!
not a moment later a tartan sipping cider through a twizzler off the starboard bough. call up the buckle boy. oh... sorry sir, the boson is pulping chives in a canyon of milk for the hors d'ouerves barrel bathhouse of the shoyu prefecture. A most important client. He's down in the galley and wont be stirred to comment for the likes of a couple squirty papparazos like myself or my camping bag sleepy head that is

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