Page 16--Stop Screaming! It's Only Foreplay--Josh McCool

3901,
A bitter Canvas in a jar.
Infant blooming in a back brown seat,
Time kills, knives release.
I ascend,
Turning Thin Tan Paper Streets, I inhale décor in Newport cigarette buds, and Abandoned items of our nations promising diabetics.
Kiss me lover man, life is round the bending, Billie's body's round bending, tilting on edge of Something sweet, all awhile within an inuring thrill, the moon violently Masturbates.
The rain sets in,
Damping sidewalks beside the elderly bricks and oh so edible librarians,
I disperse as Culture stumbles over Design's anatomy,
Blending as smoothly as the awakened, stoned bullet, Mr. Doctor couldn't decipher out the corner of a bloody rib cage.
Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal Smooth!
Lubricating immured instrumentals,
Winding burials into Old Whiskey, crystal clear Vodka, and sour, Concentrated Music,
Open wide,
Consumer of America
And associates.
Deaf pathways make poor victims.
Stop screaming!It's only foreplay.