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NIETZ AND THE GIANT SPEECH
I hoard words just like a stockpile. I Heard Amber likes to suck clams and oysters instead of cocks painted with a smile. That's my pet snake Roger, say hi Roger, Roger likes to Roger this and Roger that, then when the nut is bust, its over and out. But enough about him breaking hymens during the hymns - in church while he lurches around slurring his speech like an alcoholic buzzcock. This story is about me, but I'm not an attention seeker, although I do seek tension to make the mood awkward to create a hawk war so that the casualties need to be taken to an Hawk Ward. Some of them with wings missing, the rest of them, just missing a wingnut. Idioms are amazing, the most ordinary people in the world could have said ten of them in a day without even noticing...... the sign that says keep off the grass. Why keep off, when you can keep a URL of pof.com and get a date, or a fig if you are really lucky. But those with stigmas can't, which may be a figma of my inagination as a conspiracy theorist who still maintains that Theo did not slit his wrist. There are so many cover ups these days, but not as many as cupboard cups. Everything in life sucks these days, even the Chupa Chups. Taste Bud Deterioration. A chump with chapped lips to suffer in silence like Chaplin, or that day I had to go back to Maplin to replace my External DVD Drive. Biking it there on a hot summers day, pedalling like the devil was chasing me, but when I looked over my shoulder, the devil had been knocked down by a Toyota and was being given CPR in the street, poor bloke, even his pitchfork had rolled into the canal during the collision and had been half-swallowed by a duck that now looked like it had three boners sticking out the back of its neck. But, once in Maplin, shit started happening, like crap that crippled me like the Crippler Crossface... Fuck that, what about the Crippler Happyface. I don't care for either, or Esther...
What is the point in caring? Or being forced to wear a care ring to prove you care... like marriage, its just a piece of paper symbolising that one day one of you will be entitled to the other one's assets... The world is like Duke Nukem, nobody cares, even those at the homeless shelter make you live on the streets for 25 years looking for a St Mungos when all you really need is nutritional mangos and cans of apple tango while watching Fangoria horror films at night on the abandoned train station filled to the brim with people... I know what thee are saying, direct contradiction, can't help it, its a part of the arsenal now, the cannon ball canon-related activity that swarms me... Canon printers, scintillating my mind is just not integrating into society, just grating, irritating like irrigated radiation poisoning from Fallout: New Vegas... Yeah we had a falling out all right, that radiation was detrimental to my mental state of wellbeing... This is more like hellbeing, late night television, unbleeped out swearing, arguing dysfunctional couples fighting for custody over their triplets... While high on trips while suffering elettrip shocks bigger than The Eclectic Dildo Chair. Fuck chairs.. fuck sharing my shares with Cher or Cheryl Cole while she strives for fame and aims to bend over cleaning to catch Rihanna's attention.... Hoo Yah.
My words float man, you can smell the buoyancy, I'm the boy at sea, that cannot see, who fell from out the retard tree. But love or hate, you've got to love the way he merges words so lustily, they copulate, and pop their seed till ovulat-shun takes place so fast, you have no time to stop and say, "what's ya name son?" I'm kidding man, I'm ostentatious.
Get out Get out.. 5.3, binaural, visual impairment, scantily-clad imagination, neurological aneurysm... Arpeggios repeating, sweat trickles, neck woes, playing Vasco da Gamas with the passengers. Subscribing to these scribbles I describe through riddles, Somebody shut me up with muzzles so that these puzzles can't escape these lips.. I miss Wuzzles. Our brain is fuzz, clouds and white noise, freckles, frenzied, but telescopic, observations, dizzy, faint, occital bone feels the strain, from being pulled on this train of thought. The peeps have bought into this charade, emotional investment, use clever little clues to test them. This train of thought, brought but taught aimlessly, fraught with fright on this freight train of ghosts. Skeletons swinging in closets as you openet. Fighting for air, to breathe, inhale, exhale, exiled from breathing, neck bile I'm heaving. Shovelling Guzzling so being muzzled by Wuzzles, inundating our head with puddles. A month is a long time dormant, being dominated and trampled upon like you're a doormat. Lying on the floor, flat, while four fat fuckers jump up and down your back. Dancing, practically prancing around. We can't write if we have to keep our hands on the ground. Whatever crazy shit we write, always ends up on da Grounds. Firing pop shots like art, a smart ass firing pop tarts. Our life is just stop start, no time to rest, or regret the buttons we pressed. No need to sweat over our actions if our actions manifested the truths of this messed up world we ingest. There's no purpose as we hurtle towards hurdles we can't hurl ourselves over, and they just hurt you, like cruel words that tear you so that nothing can repair you. You're sensitive like liquid crystal, you cry whenever somebody waves a pistol. You're pissed off.