[TEXT:] rewrote “follicle” in disappearing octopus ink [TEXT:]
November 30, 2003, 02:12

{dawn}
[Black power and The Serpent Women:]
It was Arranged marriages that ignited shortages like melting mood rings.
The dawn crawls through some eyelids that open like dried fruit.
[Add a Black power background:]
The disarray of spines and spindles crust and wear like a pretzel harvest. 
[QUE LIGHT SOURCE:]
Officers of The Harlequin Militia Co. arrive to burn your precious oriental cabaret.
QUESTION: Gold?
Associate guild has struck irrefutable enemies in the Black power vacuum. 
ANSWER: Silver Cabaret Reflection!

Ride your pet Mona Lisa out of dried mustard tusks. 
Those deep dark eyes penetrate Swiss bank walls. 

The Serpent Woman shall bride two thieves.
[QUE APPARATION OF DONNA DEAR IN REMBRANT’S ETCHING:]
The Mausoleums and Monastery’s Mystery spun silk 
To put the glue back in the view of delft. 
QUESTION: Black genre spine?
ANSWER: LUCKY money FUNERAL PAPER

{midday}
[Consolation Corset for a Cleavage Crab-claw:]

The Hi-Fi Internationale Rides again!
In disdain, pave the maps over.
In disdain, milk back to birth
Behold, The birth of the stolen glance 

The meeting of The Virgin Astronomer at The Alamo went as followed:
[Soft: abroad the mast of ship]
[[Cold: The Love Letter pill executing urine ermine]] 
[Hot: Dr. T. Wood guest appearance plus honest gentleman cohort]
[Taste: radio static cavaliers weighing pearls like souls] 
[Women: Instruments of choking tassels]
[SIGNAL:] [SIGNAL:] 
the Roberts of romance are hunters of:
A) living prey
also: of elusive various lungfish

Good riddance to your swinging chandeliers; your coronet crowns of laurels. 
Long live the instruments of choking tassels and radio static. 
You’ve skinned our myths and morals you Salvation City debutantes. 
Tre sheik. 

{sundown}
[CHLOROFORM CURRENT GEOGRAPHIC LOCATION REPORT:]
11:2530:003:[Pheramone: Taj Mahal] [VIA: KARMA CONTROL BUREAU:]

(a epoxy/ eulogy)
Give Thanks to fermenting mold in the magnetic fields.
Tryptophan Liberty hyphens Phantom Heresy 
[BULLHORN:]
FAT VS. SCIENCE

FAT: Truce Armada Beards Bloody like tourniquet brush bristles;
Dip your Japanese iron tongue in fetal sauce. 

SCIENCE: Our wills are written in disappearing ink;
Our only monuments melt like ripe candle kitsch.
Carbon paper lineage for beauty queen choir. 

(SUDDENLY)
Beehive hip aristocracy enters arm and arm with nobility.
While the advisory of vibrating tumor tuxedos swallows his iron tongue.
[CLASSIFIED:]
The Portuguese Widowmaker lungs like arabesque handlebars.
Her pastel complexion entices The Fat Gallant.

FAT GALLANT: “And now we shall dance like mongoloids in satin…” 
[CLASSIFIED:]
Yet amidst their adoration for this burlesque germ
She replaces their Tarantula Milk with Hemlock Tea;
Her flesh tetris: like an intricate tap dance. 

(Enter: The Cats from the Japanese Flag)
Say widowmaker bedecked in roses, her almond ammonia. 
The Cats have come for their payment in aristocrat stomachs.

FAT GALLANT: “Alas, the sigh was admired…”

The cats deploy heretic flames in their hoop skirt flambé.
They ride the nouveau riche like double penetration ponies. 

WIDOWMAKER: “Alas, admire your mirror breath of narcissistic mortality.
Digest in widowmaker vanity. 
Ring for your unborn southern belles! 
Cheers you brethren swine!”

[END GARDENPARTY:]

{dusk}
resting after her merky bath, Le Pheramone jet-sets back into Salvation City limits.
A prodigy, a mistress, she skims the hearts of the tryptophan followers.
Decadent, she wears the mucus perfume well. 
What more could one ask for from the hallowed halls of academia?

{twilight}
Behold: Blinking towers of Karma ; 
The Incandescent route to Salvation City waters.
The Hi Fi Internationale rides again…
[END VIENNAGRAM:]