Matthew Conrad

May 15, 1986 - Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski
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type-O-negative & pig-liver

"i'm sorry": where does in-group
bias begin...
and any: if any,
outsider preference make a summary
of: the current tsunami?

the flag of vinland...
the flag of kekistan...

am i to suppose all the shitlords...
are... "suddenly"
type-O-negative fans?!

am i writing akin to Abba....
broken wings...
learn to fly again...
german techno recyclable
pristine psycho porno...

am i missing something?!
i don't want to call them: "the" people...
or like... there has to be
something new, original...
and never mind the bias: here's frank zappa
sort of momentum...

what am i? a leech...
what's this? a river a blood: a vein...
my my...
are not the blinding correlations
exact?

unlike thunderf00t:
i have no concerns for feeling
better about myself:
the added auditory hallucinations...
well:
if i can't be a solipsist...
i can't exactly be an atheist: either...

today i managed to
oven foast some fennel...
and pork belly...
with a decent mash...
and a precursor of some mushroom
soup...
the day prior?
i sentenced liver to the most
pristine fry...

i drink, and the sole language
i want to write in is german...

leber gekocht gut:
ist...
leber gekocht...
nicht wie... die konsistenz
von hitzig pastete...
imagine!

pāśteté - syllable count -
i know... cut one's own,
"one's" own...
let's count arithmetic in
linguistic "terms"
of diacritic...

pâté: p'aah-t'eh!
prolonged "sigh" on that vowel...
no?
no... of course i'm no better...
i just write what i know...
and i know this little corner
of the world to be "true"...

don't get me hot and bothered
telling you the difference between
an acute S: ś and a caron: sh / sz...
š...
half "the crown" and:
punctuation marks reign from above...
from "above"...

based in intra- with not fathomable basis
for an "outer" or inter-,

ever eat cooked: the organs of
the animal you would otherwise cook
the major biceps / muscles of?
no? the secret is...
you don't salt them...
you can always mind never
over-salting the tender organs
of animals...
whether... god almighty how the world
has become insignifant chasing
for the pleasures of chicken
breast and the drumstick...
without having succumbed to
the heart or the stomach...

i sometimes end up biting off
the nibbles past the cranium
of a chicken bone... to the point
of gnashing and sucking up
the marrow...

you really don't...
whether kidney or liver...
i am having a hard-on summoning
a goulash of either chicken hearts
or chicken stomachs...
on a bed of buckwheat...
with some dill pickled
cucumber pickles...

pork livers... nothing beats
a grand choir of pork livers...

oh the soft spots of flesh
to be made into grit... and some grime...
and some amnesia with ref.
to the amnesia of chicken breasts...
and how boring it all has to be, become...

what not cooking for yourself must be like...

undercooked pig liver?
blut: einfach... strömt aus!
heißpastete-yuck!
pristine pork liver?
with an abundance of onions?
well...
firm gesture to salute the other
muscles...

the flag of vinland...
the flag of kekistan...

so... everyone's a type-o-negative
fan... these days?
everyone has this...
gothic monstrosity budding in them?

take away menu...
either muscle, fat or bone...
never the tender bits...
but then bone doesn't exactly
make it...
to the mouth like the eucharist...
except for the gobs of dogs
or cats...

i might sight liking Abba...
but that doesn't really matter:
in the realm of cultural elitism...
if you are bound to not liking
pig liver, either...
pop songs are nothing...

ha ha! you're allergic to a certain
type of nuts...
so much for being culturally
"superior" in not celebrating pop...
you only get to eat
chicken muscle...
but not the tender organs...
you don't get to eat certain nuts...

with the explosion of the atom bomb...
beside the genesis story of the ape...
didn't the mushroom hijack us:
exodus with the mushroom cloud
of an atom bomb explosion...

ape with a wheel to steer with:
governed by...
a fucking fungus...
so much for the "2nd enlightenment"
of drug taking circa the 1960s...
ape dicta: what?
what is there to be made "replica" of...
when a fungus is governing by
fucking 'ed?!
it's not a fucking flower... is it?!
it's not some botanical "oops", is it?
it's a fungus, a tapeworm...

and let the Lord preserve the woman
in her habit of giving birth to "something"
that can replica me... mimic me...
but in the ovum of my unit of ego:
or my 'ed...
in my proxy: pullum primo: vel ovum?!
clearly there was much more than
a mammalian impetus for / of origin...
and a story...

sure as shit there was no flower to clarify
me as: jerk-off self-impregnator...
jerk-off become i:
the grand genocide freak...
but i might as well be one...

the atom bomb and: finally!
the brain centipede...
the mushroom... finally found: "woke"...
oh right... "i'm here"...
and a lot of the sort of CIA LSD that did them
good back in the 1960s...

they loved the "alt." story...
didn't they?
the ape who ate a magic mushroom...
a mushroom...
apparently there was never an apple...
there was never anything "forbidden"
in what happened: after...
in that... "per chance"...
oops... and oopsie no. 1,349 later...

i can imagine as to why a fungus
is not bound to the same category as
a... tapeworm...
both are parasites...
but a tapeworm attaches itself
to a muscular duct...
there's a direct: feed in / shit out "circa"...

much harder with a mushroom...
a mushroom is as much something akin
to a botanical "structure" as it isn't...

a fungus is...
a botanical oddity...
what's a geological oddity?
so much for the "apple" when it has been
a mushroom all along...

perhaps there was something to allow
us to deviate from the mammalian hormone
impetus...
like an ego: but more akin
to an umbrella of pouch mush...
and came the words from
Oppenheimer... ich bin geboren: tod...

carrier pigeon...
leisure activities and... und:
meine meine...
wie alles scheinen zu klingen im
deutzsche...
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