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If This Be Heaven...


The easter eggs on the shuffle-board are getting kinda corrupt, and their yellow eyes grin like a salesman's parked car of icicle-yells and treacle. So I picked up my hamster, and folded away my tent, and moved to a bowl of dandruff in egyptian fairground mimicry of snails and moist pears. The spine of the book stepped out of the storm like a new piece of flooring, and magritte painted his pipe with a fingertip on the steamy window above her bed. In the mirror I see cornflakes dropping ceaselessly from both my ears, and the bath-taps of my nostrils warm a pinky butt. My ten fingernails are ten elephants, and I watch them wander away slowly, like a soccer team bemusedly looking for the ball.



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3 comments:

Anna Montana said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Completely devoid of artist anything. I'll bet you were the kid in 2nd grade who dropped his pants for shock value.

martin marriott said...

Thankyou for your comments! Another victory for human communication! You shouldn't have put so much deep thought into writing that, it must have exhausted you.

Eat some chocolate -- it'll help cheer you up!

yrs, R. Crumb

(in France)

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