Journal Entry from August 12 2011

False fetuses were falsified further by far reaching epiphanies that drove sordid men to commit miserable greyscale derivative device manufacturing. Reprogram this enunciated mess of heathen to refract divine magnitudes of solemn stress. Grandeur of the most splendid sort of contorted dwarfs plunged mercilessly upon throats of innocent little toads. However one looks death is the constant book, delineated into sections of orgiastic cabals that worshiped the underworld. Devolved from the supreme is the reign of their creams, bristled with twisted little brittle spittle from foaming too magestically and howling like the wicked yellow foxes that bade our nights good night. Drape this unfathomable wound with balms of asphyxiation so that the torpor of these views be made to rattle the sundown. Unbidden they came, overtook the mane of this fastidious underling. Spare me from howling like a foul. Surround me with corpses of the sickliest smell. Show me my melting spleen and feed me a thousand bleeding hearts. Lend me again someten for to spend. Yell at me if you can, and witness glands come to pen. Wilt like a sorry quilt of guilt that spilt its prettiest milk upon our oldest lofty loft. For the furtherance of this unholy day may more and more come to pray. But such is the sorrow of the orangutan with its burly fingers curling with rage. Twisting at the ends of existence, we look askance and ask of the ants: what of it? Nothing but fits of start, stop, and start again. The arisen is here for the now, and the morrow shall unburrow its marrow. Its furrows of wrinkley twinkley sorrow deposited across millennia of wiping tears of Apollo; betray that sallow instinct and unfollow! This pond of burning carcass shall hit the surface at sudden instants and resurface for another round of filth. A fickle little pickle is the lot of the sorry twiddle; yearning here or there and everywhere is burned or whittled. Ejaculations of mystery emerged from the depths of our misery propelled from animal histories into epochs of accomplished wizardry. Spellcasters please find me and evoke from within which areas I floundered horrible.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *