a shrill presence dressed for winning

beyond a well-vermilion lurid ache of the human race; an ashtray in a swarm of deceit; continuously corrupted and disoriented . . . no, I take that back as a choicelessness nothing; it is my own lazy anguish on a incinerator shutter. you are and always have been my peep-hole of delight, object bumbling actuality, my sugar daddy and mommie dearest inferno on the horizon; clutching at a wobbling banister, flaying limbs, ideologically deceased, prophet babble, ear gutter causing. none can enter and none shall leave is your perfect state of rest; a condition out to lunch since the dark ages. so stop passing out provisions and hob-knobing meaning as you see fit. this zig-zag is at zero, a ragged habit lost in incest conclusions; an evolutionary spillway empty of its next. this is nothing more than visionary drunkenness prayed for by those with regressive rigamortis, dust-to-dust need for good apex in the cinema.