Ellipsis Non-Gratis
from every pour of the jug of my pseudo pseudo soul comes extra sensory absurdism
non-gratisia jog lamb is fright slow bow being ex trap elated from the
(if you ever want to read reams of my absurdist writings reply to me and
tell me that you would like to read reams of my absurdist writings) people
you york is the new new york catchphrase for the unsatiable admitters that
a hypothetical bird never flew on one something or other
i have been dubbed the future of european pop by a toilet cleaner in grimsby
in the midst of scrubbing to stay in the pub lick fervour favour
bear beauty contests have clandestined my soul into a spare tyre wish-list
withstanding the pressurised carbon copies under terrys beard
of yankee doodle kraut wherein i am in consolable regions round about this whole credit crunch debacle
surrounding euphemisms of torpor in the penultimate schism of my malnutrioned dreams
whey did you remove the newspaper which i had carefully positioned at the foot of the boil
extra terrestrial towel supergrass fantasmagorica for weekends in dromoland castle
which diplocate that my idea of heave N is to sit on a tablechair in a nun furnished room
staring into the brittle distance between neither here nor there like a dufus
entrenched in the we are all so so delighted with our cocks brigade
why are so many people dead or in tumultuous fragrances absorbed
in grate E eating themselves to the higher power that is the windmill mile
by way of supporting the freneticism gouged into the eyeballs of a rare species of mountain goat darning needle
