Mars

It's never too late for dadaist poetry: Molten coagulation of the female exoskeleton. Manichean mannequin of the fertilizer factory. Golden Cheez Whiz on Lapis Lazuli palanquins. Moth butter and water cooler antiquarian Venus. Nerd rocking chair with permanent cheerleader. Roofing tar kid gloves and fairy wing kiss asses. Narcoleptic metropolises of fervently preying mantises. Fourth tater breathalizer mint bloodberry whoopee cushion. Incisors and tree rings that multiply by firelight. Fearless leaders of carnivorous compost piles. Calculator sex manuals with pop-up marzipan pigs. Porcelain nincompoop categorization theories are incorrect. Schizoid flowers blossoming syringe tongueless eyes. Bridges of alloyed hopes and forged meat locker talk. Shivering dildo of the pale moonlit surface of Mars. Cigarette cases for ventriloquist streetwalkers stumbling. Stitched up pancakes of nefarious fig trees. Dissimilar infections as chartreuse tuxedo mourning. Bourgeois tornado and prize winning tomato throw up. Ketchup cartoon characters torn out of Bible class for hot fudge sundaes. Gulliver's travels and lawnmower repair with broken hood ornaments. We have to share the same toupee - I'm sorry to inform you. Crisscrossing the switchblade aisles of shutdown shitholes. Nervous children on their way to the exterminator's birthday party. Cordiality cordial vs. elixir of excellence in the classical Mountebank's mountain range of monotonous monologues. Strident epilepsy peptalk at Asgard University Students Association seminar on double date strategies for the retired firemen's cotillion. Broken, broken glass everywhere and not a shard to think. Too many times have the armories been depilated of their retinue of knuckle dragging serving girls. Busloads of curiosity seekers arrived early in Babylon. Posing for photos while the world splits in half. The upper crust was burned by the sunlight in a bottle. I left you a message, but you pretended I didn't. Gradually, many of the fingers fall off the caterpillar. The Chrysalis embroidered with charities, the stupid grin of insincerity, the silver lining on turds floating across a clear blue sky. Free porn as political reform; ankle bracelets, tire irons, treadmills, titty bars, tarantula tamers - a dozen for a dollar. There was a man that fell from an airplane, crucified on the space-time continuum (whatever that is), and as he fell from grace, he opened up a laundromat and did all of his own laundry before hitting the ground, going out of business immediately, and then having to open his own hospital to treat his own injuries, and pay taxes - poor business strategy overall, but commendable effort, don't you think?