I'll post this here since it falls somehwere in between prose and poetry and I've not the mind to decide which to label it.
Subtle reactionary triggers blow high-speed razor wire kisses into unsubstantiated pieces of mock anatomy spraying ectoplasm essence into the eyes of spectating deities, ceasing their tooth-saw heckling. Something about this dream landscape invokes memories of future head quake falterings, have you ever tasted the mind’s eye baked under a light crust? His name is Vertebrate Jones and his existence has been revoked by The Inutterable, his skin flayed and his soul ground for the seasoning of overcooked battle field scraps, fear not for he will live on in the labyrinthine kingdom of our enemy bowels. There is a new congregation of dissonant underdwellers defacing catatonic nerve borders with well-intentioned propaganda blowtorches. Come to think of it, we are eternal. Learn to choke on the bones of inquisitive cold-stem ego-wranglers and the Variable Horsemen of the Ambiguous may bestow bountiful quantities of beautiful empty upon your favorite stranger. I would like to take a moment to speak directly to the loathsome, unattractive, infection coveting caricature of hideousness that is the reader about the dangers of unprotected mind-text copulations. Commence end.
