bottled rocket
The prose grinders will not stop
from 1 am until I drop into
fuzzy cat naps which splice up days while
swarms of drunken wine flies are corralled into
jinglin sunshine death parades.
Crackled raven throat demands
beckon for buttered pecan halves
on sap-riddled cabin railings.
Reality vision quests snap into caustic frames like
an out-of-focus 16mm student film
enriched with twelve spastic fog machines.
Complacency is painted across
the electronic font word screen teasing my
blueberry muffin physique into gypsy spell creation
of yet another self-awarded bacon-blasting masterpiece.
Story space station control administrators
drift from pod sequencing modules to launch bays
throughout my lucid meatball brain
opting for pinballed expressionism
in lieu of Shakespearean form.
My slippery halitosis battle glazed flesh vessel
blasts thunder smackdowns by manipulation
of an intricate symphony of keyboard button massages
unleashing velvety pebbles of angel dust
granting eclectic narrative rockets their
romanced passage into primadonna atmospheres.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Image generated on Magic Studio
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