Tuesday, June 28, 2011

PIZZA PREDATOR

This galaxy is sometimes more enjoyable soundproof,
a miracle beaming broadly, with piano key teeth,
after rising from a puddle of mud – curtsying to buxom
psychopharmacological ingredients in frilly panties: the mind's
silicon stylus would otherwise be less adjustable.
Useful otherwise only as a leech keyring, landing in your lap
and sucking on your dick
after fumbling with it in your getaway car.

Cardboard embedded with a transistor. The pizza circa 2053.
Now an asthmatic mound flickering with adorable Anime eyes:
TV bodily fluid accrued.
Pellets of clown fossil; albino crusts scattered across the floor of
an antidepressants factory after Robocop had passed through.
Bigfoot kissing in an '80s calisthenics video. 'Now respect my
embrace, bitch!' Resentment's acoustics:
polyvinyl sewn into the Victorian pelvic dashboard.

A microbial free lunch with roots in a large teeming subterranean metropolis,
as enticing to a corkscrew as that small dot marking the convergence of a
staring contest between a car salesman and a soda
vending machine. Predatory.

--Tyson Bley walks dogs, bakes cake, and works as a nuclear physicist for a living. He writes mainly about these experiences. Find him at http://soapstain.blogspot.com/.

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