here in the bead-house: that its longing should shelter the beadledome that the giant of grey berries made wolfskin swaddling foolish rabbits with insect eyes dragging Carpathian mountains from the beak-iron (of its leavening maw) of the boring mourning beardless
here in the bead-house: that its cuneal fibicches should caste the volgivagant golgibollocks that the giardiasis made hunter's horn swaddling foolish skorners of sklanderous poitis with hollow floral-rimmed ceramic eye sockets like dainty buckets of red jam where coal black cherubs bathe and strangle in their chains puniceous varblers here in the bead-house that its never-ending food hole would not turn a scabbing of hands over a nymph-golem of leprous coins whose holographic insignia danced in the vomiting twilight and our master's face was a continent of heaving organs tatooed with hair tornado currents that the giant of grey brain berries might wrestle our skeletons from our sleeping splits and hang them like gasping mule-socks from the charred light of his tracheotomy lantern cunt which reccccccccccccc cccccccccccccccccccc cccccccccccccccccccc o mend S O menaed of my trumpet neck a blasso a varanid a booket of extinction's clowper cheers-cheers solution nub here in the bead-house: that its longing should shelter us rows of stong anvils blinking with bread ludes donning our sodom ears draining our fig-muscled glarney hutches pour such incandescent gravies in our quivering blowholes ribbed and rimmed w/ black lace elizabeths whose faces like stubbed dugong cigars are stuffed red crystalline thistles and munching such gleeting berries eyes of a coal fish orphan mother now throw the box away
