/lit/ - Literature

friends told me and warned me after a soft rain to expect the black
and brown worms bibbling from the soil, not getting disturbed or
making a scene like i usually do, to ask silly questions or make
myself naive. i thought to check out the windows, rapping on my coffee
cup and stirring and spitting a little with cafe and spit washing
around my mouth gazing out at the front lawn of R's parents' house in
portland. thick cockly centipedes pulled long bodies from the pores
leading to the _underground_, slick tongue lapping at the mist lying
lowly on suburban grass. in diameter they were sizes of fingers but
grew quick, sucking up moisture to take on the size of tails and
tongues, towards ankles shins and sumple thighs. after engoragement
and gabbing up their sloppy faces they reach claw over to sidewalk and
roll back and forth. R is cooking red blends; i just wish i were back
in a santa ana gay bar with rockabily cholos' showing off their dark
blue boyfriends. out front, portland proud, doggish sized insects
without eyes or organs are to survive covered in glands, shaped
eyelike to scare off hungry homeless mongoloids, secreting pounds of
sweat for coolent, huffing at air with grunk skin folds imitating
mouths and rolling a pore along the ground like a whole begging for
yay.

worms are more hume each year in the portland zone, their animating
principles are rumored as combustion engines for nomad
shades. zoobooks describe in detail the old souls hitchhiking in the
underground, back to the surface to beg for forgiveness from lost
lovers. ghosts get time in reverse, bubbling gibberish and gargling
thick milky CO2 backwards in nasal euphoria like a spinning top. each
has between five and twelve glands, the five is the true male and
twelve is true female. in between are cursed concubines and middle
school dorks, bullied and humped by alpha pedes whose violent
temperment rises with frustrations of not having cocks or
bones. females belittle each other over the sphericity and size of
their gapes and the accumulation of acidic crust in their folds. it is
yet unknown to scientists how communication occurs, shamans and whores
propose psycho-spiritual powers from the godhead; more likely
infrasonic waves are piped into the concrete, or demonic governing
hive soul thrives underground, building birds' nests and sending
hidden codes along paper cup telephone poles, touching the pedes at
the base of their septums with wirelike chains so thin we have yet to
detect them.

Just go there man