Toilet words

review conundrum kisses, it's her bridal shower tomorrow but nobody gives an orange meringue what she wears or who she marries because it was over the second she opened her eyes, the guitar strings play something spanish, something about dawn-tinted cobblestone streets with too much wine, woozy next to the stone, thinking of jumping in the river to prove it is not made of glass but we've all had those feelings of death creep in our throats, the stiffness of melancholy in our knuckles, we can't crack every nut that they throw at us, the buckets are full and we're over it, over it like a tuesday massacre, like a button-up fly police station deranged waitress or something maniacal and boisterous, another whiskey on top of the gin and then again with the tonic bath ritual. Not enough tea in this joint to keep my nerves cold and blue, uninflammed and korsakoffing by way back to last years chicken fights and kfc dinners. garbage. such complete and utter verbal, linguisitic garbage here and i'm spewing like the queen just tried ethiopian sloth chutney, heads up, here it comes again.