Nothing. Nothing at all. Sterile, dry flat ugly desert plains stretching as far as the telescope could see. Dreams of sanitary public toilets. Am I really a super-hero? Vague images of anti-Semitic public servants hooked on Jock, suffering their own peculiar addiction and withdrawal symptoms. Drifting toward an infinite and ineffectual death. Working their habitual rituals in order to procure the black substance that governs their abject and cunt-fucked lives. Still managing to be in accordance with the bodies of other public servants. Why? Fellatio. The absorption of whisky and water on the brain. Save the earth, bearing in mind some awful dispirited fudge packer from the Tongan Quarter of Psychis has to do it. Off to the hills, screw a rabbit and clean its arse at the same time. Social economics or just social responsibilities? Rhapsodies about da Bloom criss crossed the machine linen of reality. In the valley, everything looks as it was and as it will be: peyote. Puff rain after stiff statement do a puff. Prose strong and savoury. Liquid Paper manufacturers... do people enter this business for passion or for the erasure of pure thought? Fellatio? “Where is my guide,” asked the mad Arab with only one arm (the other arm was blown off during the Minious Wars while fingering a Bolivian Goat that had a grenade planted in its rectum). Fondling the genitals of eccentric Hungarian soccer referees that could only subsist in the ideologies of the minds of the deluded and self-pitied... ...A canvas could be the carcass of a blonde raped with a Jizzbucket guitar. Is this what they call artistic pain? Too many sounds band like a little green apple being snuffed from the pages of romance novel... The mother I yawn pray equally for you promptly in my other homely world... ...Benzedrine doesn’t do in The Jizzbuckets... ...Is that God? I hate God. God hates I. God I hate. Could I be God? Coming dove wake me up with a fish now. Have to come down, these thoughts are laughing... Why are they laughing at me? I really hate Urine, no one worse... ...Hey sheep can I like your cunt? Pablo?
Inflict Kafe Gavani On The World
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