Monday, January 28, 2013

Ferdinand in Pasadena, California #54 (Rage)

Your well will dry up, it's easily exhausted. You'll find yourself a wilted thorn bush, your outer appearance mirroring your inner ugliness; fat, poked with purplish veins and cellulite, adipose and formless drooping flesh masquerading as breasts and the coarse hair on your face that macrocosmically represents the tiny hairs that cover the bodies of winged insects that spread pestilence and plague by virtue of their uncleanliness. A fitting comparison; you're rotting inside, your breath stinking of disease and inward death. Your kiss is like devouring rancid meat.

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