nebulous mercury, or old neb as friendly namesome, was a longtime salty marner.

one day he was seasonally easing along with the flotsam and jetsons

when there appeared before his worn and weary orbs a macabre confoundment,

the vastly ghastly countenance of a slithering slimy see servant,

a critter that rose from the sea and had to hunch over so as not to break the sky,

the kind of monstrosity you only see in miffs.

he began to wrap his protuberances and testicles around the clig as to make repast. 

ohh, dreadful tingers draggled forlorn! 

shunned and electrolytical he was, old neb, awash in gloombulches and grovel gullies.

but then old neb snapped to! "Not my chipper clig you don't!" he charged allowed as he fingled forth in fury!

the battle eschewed in the stub of legends. old neb will ever be memorial for what he did that day.

to this very day, indeed up to this very moment right now, even chipper cligs flying scallion bones cut him a big bertha,

such is the perspective they feel for him

no hobo, but a ****** chum.

the divergent impetus of meaning,
solidified in phonetics,
and not,
                      linguistics...

it's not exactly an alexander dumas
shelf-space of
narration,
   but my maine ****,
castrated, male,
                  has an uncanny
need to snuggle against my legs
before i allow my drinking
pathos
to give give him the fake...

   listen...
        it's like a husky dog...
     a maine **** is like a husky dog...
you really want it to
sleep at night,
   in the open...
  ******* or sadistic
   given the chance of being
attacked by
foxes?
           bonsai tingers...
versus...
          scavengers?!
   which is why fox hunting
is like shooting
                retards pretend to
mobilise wheelchairs
at a firing range...
       the ******* talking about?!

essex cats and the subsequently
local foxes made a, pact...
i've seen it...
                   cats are safe...

buggy...
          ever wonder what a down syndrome
curiosity looks like,
  peeping-tomming you
down to the raw, root, and
                                numbing seed?

but i took pity on the 9kg ******...
    mingled with it on the bed,
then allowed it to sprint onto
the roof...
               watched it sit on it
for a good 10min...

         synchro. hell...
        one word was uttered:

        szukaj!

                            and the thing moved!
the synchro. ******* of:
well...
       that wasn't anything close
to being innate...

  what's the meaning
of the word?
          glad you asked...
   i've had a Hadean impression
to work with,
   my feline cerberus...
  
              seek!

            search!

         synonym of:              find!

plus the night canvas...
can't help but
thrill yourself
with an egoism + a hard-on
that doesn't require
an outlet composed
        of female genitals.

there's an 'oops'
             involved in all of this?