1. No more coke.
2. Encourage the chicken into freshly knifed cubes.
3. Have to sanitize this shit because bacterias get in your salmonella too seriously, and see what I’m doing what to what? What are these?
4. One ton noodles.
5. Wash or don’t. I don’t. Care I mean. What you do I mean. Whether you wash or not I mean.
6. Mix. Now, marry-make for a time.
7. Flesh is prefurable.
10. Inconclusive. The more food typically freezes it all? Maximum three days. It also snacks more than it eats light, lots, or vice-versa, and personally I hate breakfast.
11. Widely dump into the all-the-way preheated pan and apply lid. Meantime deshrimp the thaw, being careful not to overthink it.
12. Leave for five minutes on middle class. Wait for it. OK, now come back and you can jacket a gleamy high.
14. It’s better with salt. Greated, greated salt.
15. Beside the pan should be a pot with water and behaving smokeyly. Transfer it to the element the pan was/is on, depending when you read and/or read this. Now, transfer the pan to an off element, having used only California Style© vegetables this whole time.
16. I do.
17. Boil and Fry! Don’t call them “goals” call them “scores”. Portion, not preserve.
18. OK, preserve.
QUICKLY, WHICH HAND TRIED TO CEREMONIOUSLY DISEMBOWEL HERSELF?
One hand, emerging shyly from a sleeve, held a fan and the icy touch of the soaring joys of the flesh. The tips of its fingers were like the bud of a moonflower, taut as the clang of a bell. The other, in the sleeve behind her back, murmured, “Tonight I shall cut my stomach”.
Even in bed, these two were frighteningly and awesomely serious. Watching one rest on the lower half of her white kimono, the wife of the lieutenant experienced a bizarre excitement. So like her hand in holy matrimony! It struck her then that.
Amidst this terrible agony, things which could be seen could still be seen, and existing things existed still. But as the blade becomes entangled with entrails, it gets pushed out by their soft resilience, requiring the strength of both hands to complete the cut. It’s why they call it a ‘family’, see? And ‘husband and wife’? A raw smell fills the room.
And this encourages her deathface. The eyes lose their spark and seem simple now and empty like the eyes of a toy, but the posture of the wife of the lieutenant seems to suggest that she’s looking into what happened. Seeing it doesn’t matter anymore, she’ll solve her riddle we figure. And soon. Already the clenched fist has grown moist.
stray shopping cart-
thru the bars
The icicle dangles
its 3 month old body
over the backdoor
and people still use it
I can’t even look without that
tricky then to pull
out of my head
I often contemplate
ending it all with a shovel
I never do
I think it’s because I grew up
in a rough part of town