Cocaine Cramps
Ideological cocaine cramps my esophagus as it drips down, melted neuro-plastics, stained by burning cigarette smoke which connects my hairelectrics. Don't you crave the bromoseltzer in the angle of hangover breakfast of eggs. Don't you need the vitamin supplement, seltzer soda bubbly in the tummy with your eggs, fakin' bacon, hashbrowns and spunk critters form the linguistic nuances of our mundane lives in which we choose to read ahead out of boredom or fear of losing my hemerhoids to a healthy diet. Major danger for young people; the structure of do-nothing, ask-nothing, fuck you, man, get outta here. I read ahead, I throw I-ching and gut chickens to make sure I'm paying attention always to the correct details, won't lose the itchy anus of early afternoon, bad butt hair direct the traffic of your semen and police your sexual arousal stinks like armpit, you kiddy porn downloader, you cigarette smoker, how dare you turn your skin into the internet. Because you've found pedophiles in your home, you've found them in the streets, bars, museums, cafes, parks, and aquariums. And these aquariums, floated on the sea like choppy little house boats, German fish men with goggles. Sex with the child in the child's own notion, perhaps the baby, oh jelly honey, perhapys he wants to be the little baby's sex slave, not the other way around or inside outercourse in the really scary painful sexual world influenced by satanic rituals and people you can't trust. But that's the kind of thing that's probably not going to hurt your kid.
