Wig Out At That Crustacean

you instantly feel feel start start feel feel better.
zing zong zimbobwey said the man to the goat,
lets play a board game the goat replied.

moth in my popsicle maker
mmm moth pop, better than cherry.

Rowena you facetious fascist of a steam iron,
Unscrew your cap and let me in.

Santigold said, work on finding a woman you vaguely like.
Who names their child Santigold? I thought.

88 words and early morning hangover, I miss that which is known as chikita company, instead I turn to fast company. A magazine of which I am still uncertain the purpose of.

Don’t push your Siracha Salmon on me Gwyneth,
fig or lit, I have no interest. Figuratively or literally, none.
Nor do I really care for figs at the supermarket or dry literature about alaskan huskies and their masters snow journal.

Riding around on a snow leopard, that’s my dream,
Maybe I’ll achieve it, first I must deal with money.
Plane flights cost bills.

Cripple crab named Shatner, crutching along to get his shat done.
Even he, they tell me, has no excuse
to avoid court.

Time to go squeeze the life out of a tomato and
sprinkle the resulting massacre with salt and pepper.

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