Peachy sniper. Paternalism cans the laughter over an inky fakir. Blind of hope — canned hope — blinky hope — all of the above. To be alive — merrily test items, and the rack as coal-iron assessment blitz. Weird snow, granular like websites, like grains, like websites. Crunched ache-y universe … cosmocramps. Transvestism as blizzard intestine, collagen bronze polish on a nervy winter day. Come on, come on. Cheap mentions of celebrities: Anna Nicole Unicorn snowing all over the silent facilitator. Pink hair — blink and it’s gone. The pacifists with their little fishheads, the lurid blowback of raw grains, popular culture a dough on the nub of daze. A cyclamen screams over its background. I hallucinate my cynicism as fertile disguise and/or peevish rupture.

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