Jar of vasoline

jar of vaseline

slathering mouths trip down the street leaving a foul smelling trail of
putrescence... but what if mad cow disease is found pasturing in the
corner with a one eyed simian shall we stop everything with the cool
blade of a souvenir scimitar or a jar of vaseline... coil virtual
VAGINAS around pink &; purple blossoms in brown paper sacks... racks
of twisted pleasures lying in penal abasement while a smile cracks the
quicksilver mirror? &; the silver scream COCKS a 12 gage shot gun
sending a shatter spray of obscene vowels into the sweaty bra of MADAM
CHAGRIN turning her nipples into tiny knotted fists...THE LINE FORMS
ONE FOOT BEYOND REALITY...

THE DREAM MERCHANT unbuckles the lower half of his torso then lowers
his torso onto a rickety skateboard... he rolls down the dirt road
heading for the brown fog of forgetting never to be seen again or
since... but his voice squeezes into the armpit of a pineal gland while
a vaginal mouth sucks up the residue of darkness that hides among the
stippled shadows... concrete sound patterns rumble into the path of a
PAVEMENT SAW the young girl out for a short stroll along a chalk line
while a sedated CHAOS BOY snug in a pile of old newspapers snores
contentedly? as his laconic brain replays old FIRESIGN tapes spliced
into a 78 RPM recreation of a FIRESIDE CHAT... old FALLA shits on a
fruit dish while ELEANOR of AQUITAINE puts her lips lovingly to a
crumhorn &; blows a flatted fifth while FRANKLIN take a mourning
swim with the girl next door to the local brothel?

AQUA DUCK has been terminated &; laid to rest among the thistles
along the RIVER STYX &; stones have gotten together &; built a
little shack just two miles east of SUEZ... or was it some where along
the beltway wrapped around an arm &; hammer... sickle &; hoe...
while young ladies from a circa 1940s girlie magazine preen their
scruffy little private areas with a panting AIR BRUSHED into extinction
so they find it impossible to either piss or shit... all they can do is
vomit their wastes &; walk about as a foul mouthed bitch... WHEW...
foul mouthed but oh those pretty firm denippled breasts that defy
gravity &; their glandular sub structure...

it's the pulp of human blindness that dreams are made of... or
nightmares whinnying at the local version of a PAPER MOON? or things
that go hump in the blight... plight... pliant shadows scan the
whoreizon looking for a suitable spot for cohabitate? while the litmus
test gets a nose bleed proving the existence of ACID as a TRIP WELL
TAKEN... slivers of joy are measured out in paving stones thrown helter
skelter along that once famous ROAD NOT TAKEN... &; forsaken on the
crossbeams of a scream that will not accept nor condone the young
virgin impaled upon the horns of a dilemma... or its delicious? its
delimit? its delovely?