Ends up as a Question of Jars

[Seung Kim]

The meat was sufficiently bashed in by a Spalding baseball bat with
aluminum exterior which let the meat take shocks as it was still the
cow resusitated partially by syringe and fluid that allowed for the
half carcass to experience both the incomplete identity as well as the
vibration against the bone line of the bat, leaving the flesh to sway
from side to side as it had the ring of a metronome which was in this
case the bone of the demoralized fodder put to the test as a potential
instrument. Aside from this, in freak jailhouse number 2 was an old
man who held his head by the slight lift of the right hand as if he
was holding his own head in the mannerism of holding a teapot. He was
facing the sunlight. The piece of meat was served to him by the chef
in the previous area of gruesome activity which was the
slaughterhouse..kappas grew confident as the prize's value was raised.
And the man gave a morsel of live cowmeat to the gently hoisted head.
The eyes rolled into action and he could find the life then pervade
his nostrils like a bad drug. The worm ate through his nostrils and
existed like a distortion wave with an appetite for apples that were
carved into the stone slabs of shegods with the vulnerability to plug
in this hole for virtual reality gaming. The worm would scrape into
the hipline and some regarded the stench to be perfume. In another
room, was a young actor being trained by interjunction to a glass
screen where his frame by frame consciousness caught the light and
became obsessed with moocow. I could see the stream theory held a
paradox as with any movement as the sequential pass which was a
continuum could not be proceeded by a capturable .0000000? Hal tried
to process this and he found himself implementing leaps..which then
broke off into another fork in the road once the nature of the word
continuum was reinforced. In the head of this zoo was a bust of a
silent musician rotting from the pores in the stone that produced
molds that hung like a picture of eternal triumph over traditional
things. It had that light until it was novelty expired. I ditched
the circus by heading down to a monastery that required I suffocate in
a lotus squat and brim for the sake of us rather than the 'darling
prodigal son' that took liberties at the price of unkind views..of
which none of them were rubbing against me. It was my sole effort to
produce steakhouse run by robots that gave me the esteem I needed to
get into what I really liked, blowing up toothpick bridges with cheap
remote offset firecrackers. It had more meaning to illustrate power
in my mind than to produce a gradual outcome..the prior had the torque
to present debate..it was always an advanced blessing of progressing
forms that the forms itself in contrast be eliminated in the most
abrupt and serious of ways. To hold the bastard sword was to hold The
Golden Chariot's hero in comparison with the slow moving elegance of
Merlin in the Round Table legends, of whom one would shudder to say,
'Who can amongst the god defeat Merlin of good grace?' "May Crom have
mercy on the children of Merlin and the round.." When you wed Elise,
be sure to take note of Croms appearance, they would say..And I would
sit by the sight of two equipotent rodents gnaw viciously so I could
engage in asking the fundamental question of praxis in jealousy..who
is this 'I Am'?

Ends up as a Question of Jars (by Seung Kim)