Chemical Bath

After the sun went out they decided it would be a good idea to bathe themselves in chemicals. I mean, what else was there to do? So we packed a lunch, fed the bear and set off for the sunset, holding hands with the gays and the gypsies. Marching with a new attitude where we'd rape ourselves for the revolution. Lest the revolution rape us for ourselves. Lest we date rape our baby selves with candy. As candy is undoubtedly better than ecstasy but not as good as our haiku. Which was the only thing I ate this morning other than coffee. The breakfast of losers. It felt all right, at least the coffee went down easy, like a bomb slips through air, onto Dresden. Like a shot glass full of cum down a buttery throat. Or a stick of butter slithering down the colon of a glass clown with incredibly large breasts... but anyway they were glass so I didn't feel guilty about objectifying them. In the same way you don't feel guilty about objectifying silicone breasts and the girls and clowns who wear them. And the children and boys playing never-have-i-ever, dancing like horse pistons until finally the bushes swallowed us all.

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