WTF???

Is there a reason I must maintain this blog? Is there a point to all this nonsense? Why, no... of course not... hence the name. Duh. But it doesn't matter. I will pick my nose, take my meds and ground myself for not doing my household chores. I will slap my tits, study the actions of depraved minds, and dream of a better future. Because when a spider bite gets you high, anything can happen.

Don't Verb the Noun: Randomly Generated Nonsense

Don't Try the Prayer
The sandal ran ecstatically down the habitat
It thought, joked and escaped glumly
like the marriage of oil
or an ape that slaps foreplay
And upon that eerily slow sandal
its metabolism sprung and prayed to an olive
The olive pitched somberly and mildly
purchasing dreadful queefs and butchers
leaping towards the sandal's remote control epilepsy
while the habitat rang it's tractor... shouting
"Don't try the prayer!"

Don't Try the Hesitation
The color moved seldomly from within the lime
It urinated, fidgeted and hammered eerily
like a paperboy on the farm
or a triplet that thinks about habits
And upon that ecstatically violet color
Heaven traced and poked at a sphere
The sphere ate mildly but ferociously
Judging hot kimchee and holes
running with the color's torrential quirks
while the lime wanted it's candy... shouting
"Don't try the hesitation!"

Don't Kick the Scarf
The fish slept gleefully with the jukebox
It fidgeted, wobbled and unfolded glumly
like the disease of a knee
or an iguana that digests lepers
And near that artistically naughty fish
a pacifier masturbated to and vomited on a wish
The wish thought gladly but testily
paving the naked bells of Greece
yelling like the fish's rabid mailman
while the jukebox wanted it's usher... shouting
"Don't kick the scarf!"

sex

I don't wanna.
Don't wanna what?
Don't wanna.
Ok... but... what?
You know.
Ummm... no... no, I don't.
Sapporo.
Sapporo?
Yes... Sapporo.
Ummm... I still don't get it.
Pfft.
Pfft?
Why do you keep repeating me?
I'm sorry... I just don't understand you.
Well put some tinfoil on your head.
What on earth would I do with tinfoil on my head?
Dunno... was just a thought. Don't shoot the messenger.
The messenger? That was a message from... whom?
God.
God?
You're repeating me again, and yes... God.
So you're a prophet now?
Always have been.
News to me.
You haven't been paying attention. Stop repeating me and start paying attention.