deranged tales from a sadoo stoodıo

the agêd explode ın ash

mamas been feeding off granny ıs tıts for as long as anyone forgets  while it cant be medically or metaphysically proven if granny ıs alive or dead she sure still keeps on spouting out those grannyısms and  good for mama  flows the mılk

though its not really mılk as galadap discovers when she sneaks a drınk one night  more about that later  

so its later now  though weve had to cut out a lot of pretty good stuff to get here so quickly  so lets tell the toothsome story

its the eve of hexennachtenwoltenschläften and house of mamas open for the carousing agêd and they enter like hobbyhorses  arriving in pumpkins and deshabille  on psilochuasca and dragonflies  by wrinkle and disaster and steeds of collapse   crashing through windows and cutting themselves in broken cackles  they cast themselves down webbed flues to explode tinily in ash and annihilated memory

here comes unkl of greed wearing thick lipstick of concern   there awnt of academic virtue and clunks of observation  in a ginbowl a granmama of many greats and thick broods of narcissists  lounging in a pantherthong old hababal of countless suicides and love   all these of gross descendants littered across the earth like frozen novels come like weightless garish pastries and share their sins and gather in the cravatoria to await mamas arrival and address and their sexes hang like ichiban brinjal and require just as much oil and some sing tiny choruses in corners

mama enters through a gerovrata she craftily pretends to misplace by dismantle 19 and the agêd bubble and gluck in seventy times seven hundred simulations and turbulence is like ichthyic hope

oh agêd and the many agêd and the agêd upon agêd and the agêd beyond mama says and slips her dress off oh agêd whove bespoken boundaryless vats of suffering into existence and almost as many lies to delude all but the wise that their bespeakings been a virtue mama says and unhooks her brassiere and lets it drop like a thousand lost metaphors oh agêd who now and already stalk the shades of drool grasping for holy dreams that refuse to enter even the remote orbits of your suppurating festerment mama says and removes her panties and casts them at one recently dead under the tattered skirts of a once professor in ungulatology and mother of a duet of pedantry banality vapidity oh agêd who says mama and

she says the same thing every year mutters galadap to herself in her geheim secerno and knows mamas going to get distracted by the sunken smelly navels and antediluvian toenails  their irresistible pendulousness and rancorous gonads   the coalescence of which  she feels this dna config even in her young meat and begins to prepare for the tumult she divines will arrive when it flowers garishly into the manifold colours of hunger and hard lecheries of scent  galadap knows will catapult mama into frenzies of forgetting and shell descend from her nakedness into the dealt fashions of teeth and fragility

galadap says to herself in her verhohlenung ı shall use the opportunity of mamas fatal distraction and unholy salaciousness to steal through the storey of skeletons and use the key of taboos and ıncant the unspoken and clamber unwıttingly across the dıssequıturıa to the opaque plenıtudes that protect granny ı in her volumınous concupıscences and there outwit the plenitudes and gain access to the knowledge thats mine

& true to truth galadap does and here granny ı ın torn & smırchy nıghtdress of eternıtıes and a tıt lounges outsıde like an ırrupting ınfrangıbılıty and the tıt speaks ın the emetıc speech of the spırıts who lıve ın the ındıstınguıshabılıty of death and lıfe and whıspers to galadap secrets of her dna and even mama doesnt know them all and pulls galadap towards ıt and she latches on like a ratchet and sucks to the marrow this ıchor that has changed her forever

and when galadaps done granny ı rıps off grandotters frock and there galdaps tıts  to have been born with the breasts of outcasts  like caprıcıous sentınels and granny ı sucks and dotter of house of mama knows the need of those with neıther root nor canopy

galadap returns to her heimlich by the cravatoria and the agêd are strewn like roaches after a party and smoke rises from them and mama  naked and satisfied and bloody  sits in this gehenna  some lost word from the regions beyond  and galadap sees time before her babbling like the mad and feels granny ı crawling within and makes an altar to what shes no idea and prays though she believes little in belief and sleeps for many days and nıghts in risible ribald portendıng dreams