53 lede

“My Couch Says” by Fiona Pearse

My couch never asks / Are you winning / What have you done for me / Why not supersize? // Instead it calls me over / You're welcome any time / Have you met remote control? / He was lonely without you // My TV is a window / It fits the world inside / Life is great in pixels / Nothing lasts // Click, the window shows / A couch just like mine / With oversized coffee mugs / And oversized matters
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“autobiography of a late and compulsive liar” by Troy Baillargeon

I noted many om shanti shanti shanti's
and familiar voices talking to me about how it hurt, immediately followed by onetwo hearty laugh, mon pere shares his " feed me, mama" with me. Ghouls, the all of them, haunting me in black mourning as per my high psycho libre. Pair of noids as all hell came down in free fall. From all directions. Ears as eyes as fearful glancing spheres, all of anarchy once occupied me twice.
 Disappointment. This whole sector of south jersey has fast become a disappointment, this-- the bad saturday of two thousand twelve-- busted bobcat til he went and blew his brains out, cette sacre temps nous sommes dans.

“The Beauty” by Jonas Kyle-Sidell

Do people see it? Are they praying,
                                    like me,


they have some reaction to it? To