(I would were I not subjunctively consumed 
by the waste/waist such consumption is 
the province of raMpaging male hippoi 
between which and the water you had got 
so as to camera the memes they are as grapes)
is there a dofline or is that wrong? 
they stroke I hear they stroke then die 
can that be right? 
it feels strong like motherhood in a cave 
is that right? image away the saccades of stroke? 
then drift unfeeding away from everything 
everything dust that inflates outwards 
not a singular thing but things is not plural 
as inflation everythings blows ups or out 
from his mouth ivy and golden clouds
for there is no up
as of guilt look this is what I mean the meme thing 
the breakdown what a cronk someone
long far way stretch was he called Alan or Alain 
the spelling ludes it was far off in time again 
you can know everything and still hate what it is 
to be monstrous as that stuck hippo of gloom 
of screen of sashay of youth of the room even 
to to to to always approach with a rat in the mouth 
shouting and wielding as you flood for this 
is known to be scary as fuck and/so/even they will 
indeed run at the mouth and the apparition 
with ichor and fright at the very affright 
or afreet in the well but that is a non-story 
stuck in a lift with a killer on the zero floor 
I was not but neither were you? (he wanted 
to hold his wife.he murmured.he had forgotten.
she was dead.her voice across the straits.
the cannonades of human limbs.the grapeshot 
that took the legs out of the Highlanders.
in spring they throw bread in the rivers
to raise the dead.he clutches at her.
his arms return raining with emptiness.
he looks in the mirror and wonders beetles.
who is that behind him?he opens the door 
at midnight.something invisible slides in 
past him.everything is now infected.love 
goes bad and becomes a disease.sent using 
BlackBerry® from Orangeyeah what) no you i 
mean no you that's the damn thing—no you 
.
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