Never Lose Yer Spunk Kid

a one against all iconoclast eat my shorts was his hello after being driven from the village by the Iceberg Clan physical therapists and their dictatorship of deduction a mere fascination with the grotesque boasting an indignant moral high ground their vast distortions parading as what's next none of which was actually observant ordered the award of a certificate of exile prompting futile biographical excess told his life story in a whisper to the audience on the bus stop bench in the fabled Flat Lands of Disturbia trying to be more than what he thought he was had the soul of a humming bird chose his objects of adoration wisely dodging recruiter demons at all hours kick starting a thousand slave rebellions you instigate one you instigate them all inching up to the black widow at web central twitching the cables just enough with the help of his archangel air cover shielding his free will for eternity just enough for the look-o-meter to get him through the mine fields driving a '49 Mercury like he stole it it is theater pure and simple a Fellini runway extravaganza playing evil A against evil B resist and defy were his left and right victory payouts collectible at Ed the Bookie's a Ponzi scheme of titanic proportion cosmic efficiencies being what they are where the hierarchies choke hold your neck zigging and zagging like sparring ghosts a house of cards inside a hall of mirrors forcing themselves not to look since when have the observant sages ever managed to end our misery made it gnashingly worse more likely If the amputation scars are any indication this is a bad review no stars in case you were wondering a lot of that's not right out there but only because context is everything a blind eye is a blind eye thoughts are surfaces