the price of eggs
The ghost fuckers from the movie ghost are actual and real- I almost swear to God
I saw at least two of those quick shadow bitches last night flying down Atchison to suck maul a displaced coyote. I'm grateful (on this journey) to have my facial hair cut into this doctor strange pattern. I may not have been able to get away in time otherwise.
The magic mirror says:
blessed is the fast function of pattern.
The price of eggs- also blessed.
The dismantling of tenuous structure blessed.
Blessed is the music of Arthur Rimbaud
(places you at the center seeds the good cancer)
a familiar authority said it so it is so.
The magic mirror says sweetly:
Die with dignity? Impossible.
Live Forever? Fuck Yeah.
A blank fired into the sky
Two in the bush
hot dogs
hand in hand
(parade)
Palms custard.
Magic mirror moans:
The shoe’s shit gets tracked into a house
and some shit must get mopped.
Shave shit.
Call cop.
The magic mirror whispers in reverse (you understand):
The blessed don’t believe you when you say you love them because you don't own a mop-however we see that you’re a fuckable fast pattern prince and this is actually a neighborhood with mostly housed coyotes and imperceptibly slow shadows.
lie down.
What is love anyway?
Does anybody love anybody anyway?
Roll over.
One can't be too serious.
Magic mirror play the hiss.