This page is property of the greenest flag on earth.
It is registered to memories of a draining family friend.
What I say next will describe military options of a hunted deer.
By the end of my time here you will be violin salesperson for Orchestra Of The Tundra.
You will conduct an asteroid collision which will annihilate Octobers and Thursdays.
I will make bullhorn announcements disguised as flirtations with high school cheerleaders.
Together we will free centuries of entertainment struggling to read its cribnotes.
gruesome details of
billions dead rise with the
smoke of the nude,
killing the trifling
children of violence with
Roman coconut water.
surly blimps of
hover over every
quivering like sewage,
fields of sun that