it was the best dream ever.
moses was there
parting the c's
her cleavage grew
like a fetus on steroids.

The toaster shot up my waffles
And it reminded me of how emo cows must all be.
fat as jabba the hut,
showing off their meat
like spiderman in his tights,
though he used more stuffing
than in a turkey on thanksgiving,
those bastards wanted to be cut.

If he wasn't running
as fast as the fucking road runner
but without the spinning legs,
I would have told that stoner,
face more sunken than the titanic,
that there wasn't pot
but a pot of gold
at the end of that rainbow he dashed for.

I woke up with a song stuck in my head
though I was sure it didn't exist.

Something about penguin feathers and alka seltzer,
though I tried to push it away
like it was raping me;

I never liked love songs.

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