too random to be random

I have a reason to kill you it's the first fist of the fight; the best follow-through, the wildest imaginable ocean brew, the clogged football diagonal, the marrowed phone and cleaver, the urn frigates the rectal weirdness, the tight bushy cactus leaf. Placate my mushroom minister, my martian drone heifer the igloo on top of the mountain, the hep styles for the tired lemur, the lego blocks smooth yet dimpled, the five thousand miles of sameness, the mangos that freak and fly out the the door; on Christmas eve the new year's gnu ears the ice’s thaw the clanging thumping insistence of bass drum; we are here and we shall sneer guru fear, we shall overcome. No no Bobby Jo - we shan't overcome after all. Policy of a pizzamaker? the hapless French fry queer and glistening metal bins in oil gliding and elided resto-stop, the blanket cashmere bilbo hop.

Perhaps you are a big black oatmeal town; perhaps you'd like a kiss? I give you tabletop, touch you in the dark; I wish to sing - it would set off quite a spark, the brainless and stainless the let-go even-flow, the simple limber tricks and heavenly clock and the insistent ticking; the trickery thick and destructive, branned fibrous and flaming. I was all over the newspapers today, determined to make a match for you, drowning in the soup of the day - 'twasn't going to be eaten anyway...