I shall make you moan and duck like a swan who is pregnant trying to escape from an incestous bird.
This fantasy will come in two forms -- first the meatball kind, 2nd the tape-worm's mother.
Me, the fantasy-peacock, will hibernate and count to 0 backwards in multiples of sclerosis.
Next, I will examine the length of the fantasy by the colored specimens of tapioca pudding.
Like a tuna on a highway to nowhere and a peacock with a perm, I will swim fast against the tide.
Where is my razor?
Like glue that is sticking to an old geezer, I will sweat out my scarlet fever.
Like a surfer without wax, I will burn the rotting hairs and send them to the post-office.
Violet is my favorite color.
My fantasty is to live in peace with the hallowed-out logs of freedom called wood...
Dogwood, precious in its formalities, like creamy butter churned at just the right moment.
PARKAY
Sedentary, like a fat person on parade.
A large, obese woman on a Thanksgiving Day float who munches on kettle korn and turkey franks, while motioning her hand 90 degrees to wave to the audience.
SPANDEX
Baby yellow mustard, tattoed on her body,
then the fantasy will be alive and I will make a movie about the fantasy
My wings will "spread eagle" and I will rustle the parakeet's feathers for him,
As not to wake the sleeping bird
Like a lost animal singing to Blondie, the fantasy shall overcome.
Ribbit...
Flank...
Steak portions unused and uneaten by Roger