Exquisite Corpse 3.10.09

I munch a buncha crunch
For lunch
The chocolate morsels make me foam at the mouth.
Foam like a Root Beer float.


Spilled over the empty castle

filled with broken hopes and dreams
memories fallen by the wayside


Memories of my birth
Covered in ooey-gooey
droplets of freshly squeezed, pulpy eyeball juice
Anita Bryant won't be endorsing that anytime soon
Well, maybe in Japan
or some far off land
with people having far-away thoughts
In far away places with far away faces
I look in the mirror and I wish I could make it
Nothing makes glass like a nuclear explosion in the dessert.
Nothing more, Nothing less, Nothing Nuclear.
Holy clean coaly, I feel empty,
What good is feeling empty?
feeling empty is everything, the important thing is loving it
loving this, this game I spit
this lover's spit
Meticulous ridiculous lovers on a football field
Hut hut, hike! Yes, that is what she said.