MetarsusDemented

When the world was new, in the dark, weird places, far below the fields, and the caves, in the rippling shadow that hides behind stars, there were two children, linked by a cord of celestial flesh. One of them was a hard, clever creature, with a line of seven eyes leading from the tip of his nose, up over and all the way to the back of his head. His hands were long and sinewy, but sharp and cold, with sixteen fingers on each. His legs, he had three of them, were stout and burly, and ended each with seven flat prongs. His skin was dark like the sky, mottled with starlight, and he moved as the ocean moved, slowly and in his own time. The other

 Okay then. First, there was the Void. Nothingness. Neither dream nor reality, very boring in my opinion. Next, the Void split, releasing Chaos and ether into the abyss, like backlash from a celestial zit being popped. The three worlds, Dream, Reality, and Overworld, fell into place. Messy, but in any event, it worked out fine, didn't it? While life flooded both the Overworld and Reality, my Dream reflected their basest forms, a foggy, twisted mirror, as it were. You humans didn't help much back then, Hell, you were barely walking upright, and you all stank! Hedon helped immensely though, what with him actually piercing the Void in the

Husk dap loomed scram Hobo-Duh-Stretchy khan alakazaam; Spiffy galore doe flay hula keno Door mesa con carne E.  Black cappuccino! Bolus mortician bone gravy McGee So lemon most bossy craves blood type AB, Drove me said bladed and grove me said Dan Of Poe Pork Mon sewer or green coffee can? But low is the silly and monkey for me What shut up say I and climb us the tree. Four wanton insurance will blatant the crime When Yeshiva and Slinky bush mushy our time: Do glowing cicadas drink rosy red wine? Or is the demented bulimia’s mine?

Counting the fireflies In the dead of night Listen to the forlorn cries That makes the skin go white Watch the birdies float about Listen to the trees explode For now the rain Again and again Falls on the dusty road Counting in the dead of night The sheep that make the forlorn cries With coats of puffy white As demonic butterflies Float about, consuming trees Angelic robins guide the road Using lamps of moldy cheese The rain falls down in a heavy load The floods with ease Engulf the bees And now we all explode I walk along the dusty street My shoes are brown My hair is neat I’m heading into town To buy some milk a

 The rain came barreling down from a tar spattered skyline. Reggie had decided to forgo the freeway and instead was slipping deeper down a dark wooded gullet, one which encased the road on which he was driving. It was when the tree he had driven past crashed to the ground across the road in his rear view mirror that he completely regretted this decision. Reggie couldn't admit he was at fault.  Along this road were several intersections, most leading towards more urban areas. But he wouldn't have it, he would not concede to his own lack of foresight. This was the path he had decided to follow and nothing short of divine interventio