The Cabdrivers examine the ideological themes. They’re happy with the murderous state of affairs. Earthen pitchers full of liquid softness. Teeth burnt on their sides. I would have done exactly the same thing to save five first-degree counts, to reflect the deaths of the four victims. Bobbie passes me an analysis, a time and motion study. Blood was found in the apartment. According to a search warrant, so was an animal. Frank maintains that he recorded his bedroom prowess for the rest of my life. Judge James Hudson responded. You did what to whom and when, precisely. Live in our 6 occasion, die on our own later. Kneel before all the founding organizations, the secret intelligentsia, the recruitment by Police. Frank strengthens in his walk-up to the welcoming table. Didst cast them forth from swaddled yard of this suburban house. A pair of knickers on the forest green. The workers provoke various insults. Fuck them. A door. It’s locked. It must be remembered that the problem was Nuclear Testing. Telepathic Thoughts. The proletarians have nothing to be able to dispose of. The factories, mines, and capitalist agricultural production. More communes sprout up. Communes too feeble for humans. They become animal enclosures. Towers of skulls. No proportion in the lap of Chaos. A sucking child cleaved to desire. A bitter tranquiliser set forth. A variety of reasons to be alone, to come apart at my seams, namely full and raucous timidity. There’s lots of flashing upon the government organs in no way swift manner. All that is discussed is adjusting the flavour of revolutionary positions, political lines, analysis.
Shane Jesse Christmass is the author of ‘Acid Shottas'. He’s a member of the band Mattress Grave, and firmly believes that the future of the word, the novel, will be in synthetic telepathy.