She wanted the latest gorilla

She wanted the latest gorilla on a flag of blood that engulfed the moon in flame
He decided to be at the centre of the popes wheel of disguises just so that the talk would centre around his draw full of poisonous spiders.
She destroyed the roll of wallpaper that craved to be first on the bus driven by a kangaroo in a white hat that sought nirvana in the January sales.
He couldn’t stop drinking the hydrochloric acid of alien space ships between his sandwiches in which his football team played for tickets to see the next sea of boiling blood that filled his telescope.
She put herself first in the bag of crisps that exploded and scattered eyeless teddy bears amongst the gravestones whose grey hands pulled down the cherry trees before they set like stone in her washing machine.
He liked to shout the loudest when the solar system hit his head as he walked down the High Street leading a horse that blew its nose on the university campus where students sat on the grass with sowing machines that loved the sound of money.
She put on her long cut flypaper knickers filled with toy train sets whose eyes recorded her shopping list for the “Evening Star“ tom hate like a cactus that outgrew a mediaeval castle.
He took his brothers hi-fi system and had it tattooed with all the names of the saints who play in kimonos on his football field whose goals were two portcullis through which his dragons stick their heads and breath out flames of encouragement.
She fought her way to the top of the class to claim the free night out with a film star who appeared to the nun in a dream and asked for the latest sports car to drive up and down the corridors of the houses of parliament that turned into goldfish in plastic bags filled with grunting hyenas who would eat her store card and spit out the bones.
He shut the drawers in her face whenever she went skating through the modern art gallery where money sat on reception looking holes in the moon through which broadband radio played the 10 commandments of the DJ
She ran all the way to the wedding cake on the head of a policeman in the city centre who directed herds of Gnus into the underground station whose eggs grew into giant pigeons made of wood covered in leaves that held magnets that were containers and taken across the doctrine of the flat earth into the hall of the mountain goat.
When he got the agreement he’d always wanted his mouth became a mountain cave where horns scraped the roof and sparks fell on his videos that gave birth to all the girls he wanted for himself but they turned into all the gadgets that he ever wanted and left him feeling angry.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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