Through the clammy air, I see your malar flush potentiate this nightly gloom. I will not bite this glum plum, its curious kernel like the almond-shaped matter in the back of our heads.
Dear cosmic sadness, you disgorge the cardinal humors of others. And I seethe in them. Over my left one, I will put on your staunch leather thong--my tourniquet, my soiled and crimped little helper.
Listen to the blackened reprisal, another sebaceous movement from which we shall rise again to walk among those lurid pariahs of tomorrow
Listen to the blackened reprisal, another sebaceous movement from which we shall rise again to walk among those lurid pariahs of tomorrow