manuscriptx
New Member
I never liked it, sour and free spirited bitch. Dull hair and an ever domicile face, she seems easily hateful but what does it matter now? Does it seem cold in the air to you? It does to me. Her fat bloated lower body seeps the extremities of an unappealing eye, the cellulite. Sugar and an over stuffed pig of emotion, fatty amino acid, cranberry and grapefruit, sausage aplenty, toads and tomatoes. She smells it when she sits down, oozing the salt from a large bag of pork rinds. I got up from my chair, slapped her chubby face, and walked away leaving her in tears. Don't worry, fat cells feel no pain. Her eyes glazed over with depression and slump. She might have been weary. She might have been dying. All those possibilities and much more I didn't expect or even care to learn up until now. Hey, I didn't kill her, the bloated weight did, the ugliness and unattractive sagging redemption was all for not. Grape lemons, cherry limes, dying the eyes that see, swallow another sack of shit and drivel. We'll see what the results loom near us like Halloween candy. Uneven paragraphs to follow the story, the stills are out of order. The Kremlin Cage is rattled and is unaware of even the slightest imperfection covering not him, but us worldwide. Was it too hard to understand? Jesus HC.
I threw her dead body into the river. The river of fire and sulfur, crystals and rubies, dead decaying gnomes and fire breathing dragons, the swallows of hell take her flesh giving me thanks. I know I'm the horrible man who did this. I killed her for nothing. Not the money, not the fame, not the prestige' or even a few dimes in my pocket. I did it for redemption. So, as I lay there under the night's shiny armoring moon I call upon a sun, I said to myself, Burn Baby Gone.
I threw her dead body into the river. The river of fire and sulfur, crystals and rubies, dead decaying gnomes and fire breathing dragons, the swallows of hell take her flesh giving me thanks. I know I'm the horrible man who did this. I killed her for nothing. Not the money, not the fame, not the prestige' or even a few dimes in my pocket. I did it for redemption. So, as I lay there under the night's shiny armoring moon I call upon a sun, I said to myself, Burn Baby Gone.