i bow to the master of his lazy-eye, situated as he is within the planes. or she. i can
never tell. so call up the eye of this seeing-man’s blitz, the gray ignorance of the
lonely man’s bliss. the country of the wave, the rising kiss - the rhyme and the wake,
the model and make, the strong and the weak,
the rock erosion derision explosion decision.
the rhyme-krieg, plastic keg, ceased to exist.
like unicorn skin and the last sacred frieze.
The plastic makes fantastic. New Holgalicious blob of film love printed on Unicorn skin, (last one ever hahahahah) peppered with atoms and situated next to the graveyard of empty bottles.
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sexwithgiants reblogged this from lazy-painting and added:
i bow to the master...planes. or she. i can never tell. so call up the eye
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