Mount Wilson Writers

bip,
corncoppled trouble pistol whipped by a vasectomated monk crandfromdugglepie taking turns riding rythym waves of chocolate psilocybin lost in the quicksand desert hondas stuck in solitude please dont tell todd about us it would hurt too bad plates flying through proverbial space like overcooked rice in rivers of uncut eyes and alibis of crippled no footed dad raping seizemagography matthew mark luke john acts on the romans and hebrews and smoked ganja in dingy basement bars with longhaired shadows on the alabaster coated walls johhny pissed his pants in second grade and now hes serving 10 to life in folsom a transvestite camel slipped under my sheets last night and i spent hours sipping water out of his humps through a straw made of recycled sand paper gog and magog floging frogs in backalleys asphalt triggers on pennsylvania rifles like pistiol whipping a deaf composer with a violin bow dont cha know sweating kimchi pock marked porpoises laugh outside my window in the dead humidity of middle night gibberish floors lay themselves around my head like a toilet paper turban shifting smiles on balboa and 40th drunk koreans in dirty gutters americans trapped in maifestation of pusscaked destiny blending daquiris at backyard barbeques while the world chokes through the toxic fumes of industry urchins with grubby hands and faces stealing bread from the kings table.