[i will wear thirty two shades of eyeliner & gentrify your avant garde poetry]
Saturday, January 06, 2007
bronson incognito
Charles Bronson slowly eats the leg of a live rabbit. I offer my bottled water. Charles Bronson says, "What are you, some kind of left-handed bitch? Bring my mutton." I bring the mutton and Bronson stabs my pet kitten. Bronson looks at me. "I'll write a poem in kitten blood," Bronson says. Then he stabs me in the neck.
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