A. A. Kostas


                In oven door, disgusting grated of stout cow heart. Go, go please, offices bought off in scrambles, for crafted rawhides drift to growth profits. A soaring fumigation of me, and innuendo pertinent to the scene. Beat beat beat beat, stir of the time and unpayable noise. Box made of shiny todays. Go create world us, slick candour.
                Rage for of yesterday’s triumphs will end soon. Inward suction, the best feature crisping truth for you. Ask of aioli street noises. Bronchial roads leading to the screamers. A headed betrayal.
                Slow start, fade to inwards know. Sink three to ankle, cut it succinctly for the prepubescent scratching. Sweat pools off bedposts, red coats off the starboard side they are coming to. Writhing threadbare, imprint pink cragged hairs. Blades rotate in atmospheric strangles, for to gasp, gasp toward the light.
                Smash? As red rooms sing witnessed. Crawling I am still dangled.
                Gagool Gangoli’s very best curry sauce. Shamble unholy, hot heavies toward us. Create older still, a sound screeched between dry flesh. Pour chafing sour, alleviate. For to be in colanders with spun knife is right. Twelve medallions, sailing laden across chests. High burn, slow roast. Husk out. Husk out.
                Then clawed oesophageal torture, the nightmaring moths stuck out. Greeting, graciously, and in riddle every time for your pleasure. Lick until two people shout from each ear, trumpeting the mass graves and baby-ovens. Spilling limbs, crawled into curling white starch to rest. In peace corpses, barramundi slabs fried. Breeze through, torture here – crash! For to what if in out so and but it must. It must.
                Strangle her pungent, purgatory tail. Cannot mew can you?

                Trust in what have going from? Craven branches, safe pace, answering crossword dullards. Find it parking, we wheel you down in cityscape marvel.
                Too tired to scribe, evocative carriages carries the load. Trombone wildly up down trunks, outward centric.
                Coagulated thoughts, scabby flaking dreams of ventricular beachcomb.
                Run run run run run run run run run run run run stop!
                Now to what is in the matter. Tea party at the hospice, thoughtful sunshine lights paths in gracious good portion.
                You are deciduously beauty. Summertime afternoon pick-me-up, ball game thievery. Out too what kicks chasing. Scaffold bracing ferocious jump! Lift! Grab grab grab all. Somersaulted summers creeked farther. Rapid whitecap embraces for to new dawns. Press air for infatuated swipes at the sun, purple rings of dusk rising out grass lonesome indignity.
                To try for and if when ask how the what can, then crematory joy for exalted tumultuousing day, and in the path well jolly scabied may.

A. A. Kostas is currently studying Law and Creative Writing at Monash University. He writes poetry, short stories, and is currently working on a novel. He can be reached at his blog https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lookitsaakostas or at axelkostas_at_gmail_dot_com.
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