I am looking for Dice among the sugar/dirt kingdom. Convention of dead dance butter licked foul rotten kicks. I moved on with a shudder. I only stayed long enough to sell my last carton of rum. I realize the two ladies are observing the spirit deer shivering under blankets. Then I leave the way I come.
See media that track wicker library. Woven books checked out by leaving a box of cookies. Thousands of Incense Pumpkins burn warmly in Electronic shelter. My warm basks, suck in the sweet heat. Eating crispy baked cinnamon beaks. I buy a pair of bone dice for the price I could have sold the rum twice. Lingered behind for Night. Night dance wearing cheddar. Night is a moth collection, traveling populace holds a coffee. A nice place if I return someday it will be with a smile up my face. I can still taste the coffee when I dream. They bask in frowns in the nearby towns. No happiness allowed. Priest of future times street No Trespassing get the donation keep flicking back playing cards.
Party at the Wooden animal death factory. Acting wild feeling free. Pass the electric flask. Hands clap then dip in pants. Party Aftermath I feel attracted to welcome here cheer filled with adrenaline Owl mask. Its endless, where Nyarlathotep went, girls bent, the best Asian girl grinned. She of burning frisks. Swarthy, slender, hot bowl I hand to thrill other young girls. Special humus and ambrosia chips. Mind a puff ball broke open to spore the air. Nyarlathotep, swinging into plat form and who knows a sharp quiet with antique vines of an approaching wicked toasted mischief. Was there an orgy?
Awaken-mad3-death in centapede-maize room. Roaring on a powerful high and running from a car length centipede that makes eerie crying baby like sounds. There is a magnified dome above for the audience to watch the game. But when I look up I see only black glass. Half-seen centipede Horn's raid on small gate of bones. Sensitive shadow writhing door brings me Red Horn. Light the fireplace packed with Neon peppers. The spicy smoke waters the eyes and drive the centipede away. Escape into a mosh/grope pit. Sea of hands to crotch and ass, both genders grasp as I try to pass. The Earth Grasshoppers stood there naked. Unsaintly filled satanic horror Cement covers the fields. Nothing grows but toe mold. Only scrawny dried up birds paddle across the sky over-head. Crispy, all the blacker my thoughts. An endless empty parking lot don't leave a lot of places to hide. The sky blackens worlds with sores. The wind curdles with storms. Oh just to be a lovely merkin! Flapping free with no worries. And no memories! So no regrets. Clams walk free with and disembodied hands and the grave is saved. But I escaped all the same.
Wait nervously warm back still A corn field. Is it safe here? An African lion calls in the dark night. He had to pick up a Gods dick in the darkened room He stammers. He looks into golden folded moldy coffee, stirs it back and forth. Playing with the latch of the wooden beak mask. Open up the strap and insert face. A long and strong beak speaks that now he is safe.
Escape into DEATH BY WATER, unsoothing unsmoothing. Teeth of lions. And vines of an approaching man hears all. The ear knows fear now.