White Eyelash
slow, overhead tracking shot, eye of god
The haemophiliac. Sunstroke chanteuse huffing carnivorously, thighs sweat-drenched with hepatitis dread. Lounger etiquette pre-rendered on unspooling skin flicks, a fortress for colonial mutts, slipping into moth-eaten negligees. Oiled flamingos wearing millennial shades tap morse code requests on metastasised glutes. A sicko with a clipboard sets pink plastic palm trees on fire whilst reciting news coverage of the death of a princess.
Poolside spleen languorous underneath swinging medallions, veneered teeth touched up and smeared with lipstick, snail trail gel beautified, glossed. When the honcho jackknifes into regret, the starlet eats juvenilia, lockjaw in Fahrenheit. Catwalk ethnic cleanse the starvelings until their jelly is microwave ready, teleprompter money shot. The underage attendant lets matches burn down to his fingertips.
Gleaming sands muffle terrorist housewives, fake cataract contact lenses inside skull hugging balaclavas. Tear down the autocrat statues with platinum-plated humvees and replace with exhibits of handsome shellshocked victims perpetually nearing seizure.
Grin a grill made from the screams of baby boomers trying to find a parking space.
Understanding better through television. Nostalgia for the disconnection white heat, binge cradle flatscreen suckle pumps, post-operative tube hiccups of recuperation promises gelatinise with self-medicated sneak peeks. Simpler to have it black and white, ratio undiscovered or inconsistent, the doppelgänger entreaty. Suspended gamete.
A refractory state of emergency, backtracking in mime across its idols, reminiscing over the ghoulish starers, dismal accident the quaint rerun of satisfied delusion, taken intravenous. It’s never all quite true, a convergence narrative cornered by fresh reproduction. Animalia in rhapsody to the mitochondrial wishful thinking of incel demographics. Consign remote control to the rubbish bin and lick a trackpad.
Venus reprobate stiffens amid extant pulsars, dehumidified pussy the oldest profession, remonetized and chaperoned into cloned static electricity, bored rigorously outside defeat. A glitterati vagrant pawning bruises to cuckolded evangelists, near a liquidised casino.
Supernova skin outwits feminine dismemberment.
A cruise control centrefold apostate, mutating at the behest of late premonitions. When the psychokinetic bit-parter implants false memories into your future potential, it’s time to undermine international red carpet fluffers. Repeat fertility amazon self-digesting, cosseted enzymes gift-wrapped in cow stomach handbags. Single white eyelash—overnight surprise mortality scheduler, baited kriegsspiel splintered fibre-optic. Disregard the diamanté dummy and embrace live feed electrolysis. Vajazzle until 2000 volts.
The bloodsport mogul on demi-pointe rushing to the embarrassment folie à deux, imitation chainlink fences displaying handcuffed therapy terriers dressed as the hermit grandparents of reality sitcom performers, unelected contestants in the slow death phobia of product placement.
Electroplated canapé breakdown and thousand yard stare underneath a gilded big top marquee, yahoos belching oxidised wire, shredding secondhand tarpaulin with nail bomb projectile vomit. Outside, boas raised in showbiz colonise portable loos whilst constricting the occupied. 50 ft supermodels quaff bubbling amniotic fluid laced with flunitrazepam and sprinkled with chocolate diamonds, sneezing out septums onto the networking übermensch below. The yolk sac of human kindness arrives and transmogrifies into a xanthous fetus in fetu.
Dropping the surgical clamp slits putrified placenta, first breaths apnea asbestos, the surrounding charity hospital wrecking-balled, fibreglass atomised into mushroom mycelium ruins. Bioplastic cards swipe blood pudding urchins, their silence bought on credit. Pandemonium whitewash jobbery! Blowback kowtows to synthetic vexers coughing up poxed tongues. Paper knives slice foil lives, the lustre, the polish, all laminated.
street level, sideways tracking shot, dolly, eye of the everyman
Tastebuds of warmth slough the flagstones and empty, a trickle cut russet into quayside grit. Balloons, pitted and deflated, dangle, captured by the horny silk moths, greedy for bedtime feeds.
Tarnishing the confused diabetic, rummaging through charity beatboxers. When the one-eyed salesman tripped on a corroded stethoscope, he said “russet.” The crowd united to watch him struggle.
A bullish paperboy let go of his handlebars and did himself in to the side of a building under scaffolding accompanied by the soundtrack of kinetic fundraisers sacrificing middle class children by force feeding them candy floss flavoured foie gras. An exploration of emollients ripped unforgivingly the best throat of the world’s most revered negotiator. The man was russet.
Thick beams of closeted woodworm, gnawing destruction upon the scaffold, giants and pansies never eyeballed the game, incognito conspirators, crouching in abatement, towering over collusion between the faith of a paraplegic and the glory of catatonic insurrection. A daft firebrand, ready for tarnation, tickling stereotypes through a yellow megaphone.
The projections run and the beautiful hunt them down with laser pointers. In jest, shop mannequins swallow energy drink tears. Brimstone shysters rabble rousing awestruck pedestrians in congregational fits of groupthink, the stardust multitudes beatified and ripped apart in front of the asthma generation. Chronic fatigue parents mesmerised by the power of the individual leave an inheritance comprised of bygone antagonisms and leaf blowers. Tomorrow will be enforced by retired television presenters expositing ad infinitum.
Dark spiders lift talons from the drains.
Rebecca Gransden lives on an island and writes sometimes. She can be found on Twitter (@rlgransden) and online occasionally at rebeccagransden.wordpress.com
