Consternated latherings

"A cowards dream" verse to moisten specifically your groin.

The bully must come from the bull.
Big and mean and with horns and stamping.
The children in the school yard flee.
Sharpen your weaknesses, children, learn the ways of mans law.
If you are unwavering there will be mercy.
Get comfortable allow warm regurgitation.
if you resist it will be painful.
A couple of important ifs.


amen

more like verse twenty tit, psalm dick

The group maintained a daily patrol of the shore. They chose their way carefully over the rocks, watching several dozen women swimming out in the deep water. There was no fear of invasion, as Clark assumed the patrol was for. The waves crashed, and the group clambered over the last rocks before the beach and spotted a business man on his knees in the sand frantically burying something in a pile of paper dollars. The man jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, fingers taut. The women, having completed their lap stormed out of the water and tore the man apart and flung his guts into the sea.
"Oh nasty." Said the man next to Clark sarcastically, speaking for all. They watched, and pulled the draw strings on their matching windbreakers tighter against the whipping spray. "dude was bug-ging." "Everybody takes drugs at the beach, asshole." "this isn't even about drugs" "Easy on the name calling, Jared." Cautioned Clark.
They took Clark's mis-step as a chance to pin down the voice of reason. Even the so called asshole he had been defending joined in and held Clark's nose so they could fill the prescription.
Later, in the dark under a tree, thirty meters above the fire, Clark hugged his knees. Every few seconds licking the bloodmucus that collected on his stubbled upper lip as it pulled from his nose.  He tried to ask what progress had been made.  An attempt at fitting in, making the small talk that was once the secret code of union. Trying to show them he still knew and trusted the good old way. Ross, who instead of minding him as was his charge, watched jealously as the naked women below strangled the surrendered enemies with their strong tanned legs.
"Did we make it w- w- with the weather like that?" Clark stuttered explosively. "I, I... I was... The rocks, uh... ah, To-Tomorrow we can, uh... do, you, you, you, you." Ross ignored the projectile spackles of blood and snot that caked on his shoulder from Clark's phatic misconduct.
This is a new day, Ross thought to himself.   Old tones and rules of belonging are stalling us, the faster they're unlearned the sooner we'll be welcomed into the silvery space cannons.
Clark was vomiting quietly now. The spasms subsided and his tongue ceased its fruitless tidying. Blood mixed with the puke that flowed peacefully and effortlessly down his slack jaw. The distant fire warmed the fear frozen in his eyes and as it melted, his knees pumped like an nyewly emyerged monarch pumping the juice into its wings.  His legs relaxed slowly to the ground and folded into a comfortable half lotus.  Leaning forward he put his face into the bowl of water Ross had placed before him hours earlier. He washed his face, getting his fingers in around his eyes, he felt good. With his wet hand he ruffled up the hair on the back of his head. "Total babe alert" he quipped. Ross smiled and stood up. "About time asshole."
Shedding their cloths they joined the women around the fire. The waters rose to answer their prayers and then the sun evaporated all, leaving a desert planet covered in wart-looking stone towers. As it orbited it bragged and showed pictures on its divine refrigerator.
The water would look back, wishing it could have brought the rock along, signing checks year after year, and quipping to nobody in particular, "I hope I don't wind up in a home."
Amen

Become the air

We now turn to page one slice of six seventy soft spot, swooping, paper cuts, agony, please don't make me read. We now invite you to read, you may not refuse, it is your obligation as a member of the group, you either read or are forbidden from double dipping in the hummus. Everybody ready? good. Now out loud together: My only proof of life is the air, and my contribution to the proof the truth the voice and softness and whisper of fertility. The whisper becomes a gasp, the gasp a moan, the moan a pronouncement of meaningful life, of pleasure. Build us skyscrapers and we shall come to the city, come to the valley, come to the ocean and the rivers mouth. Basin be it cradle or unshaven lest we lather it with creams and over once and thrice times find it and find it again.
There is a way to do it digitally as well, which we will explore now. First, plug yourself into the grid, harness the energy of a thousand efforts, a million long days and days after. Each length of wire bringing this electricity to you stands for a sexual act engaged in by its builder. Each phone pole is a drop of salty perspiration that has made it from the scalp all the way to the inner thigh sliding over the gulf of moisture between.
Once you are in, you can use a modern device to fuse your being into air which is blasted upwards and ready for the lungs of a million eager bodies. It is done so with Picture as well, only they breath you unknowingly. You may inhale a thousand full beings a day completely ignorantly. With each breath you take, there lingers in the air you inhale, ten nudes, and five clothed and let me tell you the nudes are smooth and the cloths will cause a cough.
Again you may seek generic brand syrup. a sponsorship opportunity is being discussed. Nudity is encouraged.
Amen.

Residue of umbrage

Thwart and re-thwart and relax. Everyday it gets warmer and the swelling continues. Helplessness is our excuse our greatest achievement, cast down thine chastity and rejoice in thine moisture, and the moisture of thine brethren. Sitting still is a good way to constipate all systems of pleasure. It is the chase, the heavenly pursuit which awakens in you the lust and fire but what dost thou grow moist for when all saliva is satisfied? Hearken great wizardry of walgreens, let the warm minty syrup of NyQuil open thy floodgates of pearl and lentil. Embrace, and use the stool as a reason to sit on the floor.
Sirens in the distance, wet tracks stripe the ass fault, stay bet wet them or elks you shall be mounted on the wall. Conservation mountain made of death, a monument to murder, to draw foot shuffling and sideways looks from the heathens of family outdoor enthusiasts. Go camping, annihilate your own ecosystem now on sale for the castration of your first son, and the sewing shut of your daughters. Bleed them for even more savings.
It twists and rings itself dry and tries to twist more but only unwinding and giving a rag birth to air of clothesline will allow it to be free of moisture. That is what you're after is it, freedom? Close your eyes and count to ten and only say poison and then letter s.
So you're convinced now huh.
amen,