IV
john

Her last possible hope was establishing contact with her lifelong friend and spiritual advisor John.

John was a turtle

generally well meaning

and placid in demeanor,

however

his alcoholism dwarfed all that of all others like goliath crushing an insect,

and when he drank,

he raged.

His rage was of such magnitude

that he recently cloned himself

from semen he ejaculated in a small cup,

(without medical supervision)

simply to have someone... read more

III
the walkabout and the squid

Confounded paranoia bled out of her wandering eyelids

as

she found herself walking aimlessly through dreary cum stained alleyways

and perusing the neon-lit concrete pages of utter asphyxia

traversed by half eaten cart wheeling tapeworms

and their cellophane gurus

(who drank carbonated refreshments)

She made it to the parallel cobblestoned lanes

lined with rows of crumbling stalagmite neo-phallic ruins

and found them even more... read more

II
the mollusk


The goddamn mollusk

impaled on the barbed talons

of her couch

was having a most unfortunate and troublesome evening

of rabid

and never ending

epileptic convulsions.

___

His health had certainly seen better days

and now

he spends his time barely staying together

in a strange sort of quasi-catatonic delusional hypnosis,

prone to violent bipolar outbursts

and long winded scathing nonsensical tirades

fueled by poorly time... read more

I
the damsel


The pragmatic dissolving

of Incomprehensible

fragments

of experiences

and subsequent coagulation into mutilated thought processes

– words, places, people, things –

filtered down through the tunnel

of a neurotically defective

nervous

system

and imprinted into cellular structures,

filed into databases easily accessible by the preposterously inaccurate firing of synapses in the form of “memories”.

And there was one of these memorie... read more

Wake up near the worlds end at last, symptomatic, crescent in fetal shape, riding the electric spasms of a rampantly distasteful nervous system We were there the darkest few hours before the whole goddamn shithouse went up in flames Urban miasma slipstreams conspiring obfuscation tactics for transplanted lungs Parallel cobblestone lanes lined with stalactite phallic ruins, piercing the cumulus serenity Smooth needles of high heeled sanguinarian handjob franments, cylindrically piercing the ve... read more