Cellophane Voodoo

A man enters a modern building. Begets two wombs kills three dogs. Ill timed, digs up arrested spit from the floor.

There are shards of whiskey gulping the incidents lifeless body. Swallowed dammed absinth worm, searching for the female - La femme est morte - “Hello? Police? The woman is dead.”

The night is long. I know you are a strange boy. The Pope’s blood blinds your eyes.

Canine dolls pass as whores. Intention is not a woman with virgin dirty looks. Head on the ground. Thick as carpet. The rain comes down like pork chops. Forget the love/hate side of Nature. Nothing but friendly ghosts desire to possess you.