The eyelashes

Mirror builder asleep in brackish river.
Said his headaches make his cord sore.
Taught the undoings to his offspring shortly.
Toddling oh now I am oblivious. I hadn’t
but begun to arrange snapping fingers in
the backhead valley gone to carnivores.
Fairness in blabbering eye-contact narrowly.
Awful arching back gave away pleasant saneness.
Think such like grievings of hyenas gone away.
Sold home to the bully muscle pulling foreheads.
Wore what sayings did to this a fragment.
Pity to pity oneself. Laze and forgetting.
My English language is a hopping tool.
Brain to brain half-formed tazed nearlike.
Hostile oh planet nowhere to raise kids in.
Move to the next paying mortgage always
beside the slipping lobe caring not for smells.
The pattering of hairy children every foot.
No eyes goals of stranded literal men.
The senses turn themselves knowing no work
into seizures the too-happy wear early on.
The whine of being. The strange insect
that will carry certain private molecules off.
Wooing the dismal. Remember when you fellow
shook from the ground your grandmother’s body?
Dishwater scratching piece by piece the meninges.
Puppetstrings who configured poorly human faces.
Matter does separate neurotransmission.
There is no more delicate word than catastrophe.
No better conversation than with the guilty.
The first sound boomed and sought no ear.
World cobbling hallucinators snuck into being.


~ by Jeremy on March 30, 2012.

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