Queerodactyl

My heart was a dystopian berry budding in water tiger lilies claiming hocus-pocus wonder. I was broken vanity, vixen vase, victorious tête- à-tête — the Scrabble game nobody won because the tiles aspired speculums. Ocean-misaligned brook / brook-misaligned agua — where else could these gospels have dawned if not in the bellies of men hyenaing a becoming? Twerking in church, I outperformed the candles diarized in the simpleminded annexation.       Wussup, Blastoise with the veiniest homebound pika-pika aim? Wussup, Sims Chumbawamba Family Portrait Simulation? St. Sunny of the Sissies beheld the bukkake throng of mojo-coated cartilage squandered on the refurbished bunk for new cetaceans. A dazzling jeremiad shone me dead until I gridlocked the algebraic expressions of my body in question marks. These syndicated fiyahs stigmatized my herculean magma shades, but I held these walls apart, every inch of my mascara cut off apple pie. You watched me hobble home while the streets coalesced magenta. Tell Momma the holes I cover with one error swell — & there are only inadvertent landscapes to dollop with nonetheless.