Black Market Mercurio (part 2)

SO WHERE WERE WE? oh that’s right … waking and snaking faults as we cross the King bridge and on down into the East side; sifts pass through that veil of visions of methane consumed skies; but to eliminate that, and keep intact, that fishy smearing beautifully Echoes beams bright swelling river-like upon entering into an old village but all flash with blight, with pseudo America pieces scattered ripe as we sneaking the cure, fanning out subcity instantly ancient, aerodynamics accelerate barely by each other, motorized bicycles lazily purring among my kinda place.. maximized with Dulante’s digital tingles, flips open the air, replies swift thumbs and then mingles sweet plucks, strings, “roll a left main at Second” symmetrically grizzles, cornices are only two stories here, the classic wood shed, Frankies, rattles out #yourtheinspiration oh my heavens yes, in a live Emo-like cover in the daylight. Delighting kids in shreds of heavy styles with tough looks so ugly, tattoed, tear drops ever so slick and winking shirtless this tilted side-mouthed sick rips of language. And the oracular tinted glass; the private eyes pass, watching us. Squints, peers, subcity wire sags crook in the short mews, a sort of wasted feeling amidst a futuristically bound signal turning LED legs and leaving messages like leave the belts on, so D strums, “don’t make a-‘legal turn this whole move my dude.” As if we been awaiting all our lives For all the eternity for the scent of them roses we stop supposed to slam the brakes on, like they tick-marks, color pocks in the canvas of an oil painting; we don’t consider traditions, and the discovery of fire, or the passing on of tine like sone new dawn of wonder; oh ho how clever this deal will stamp time once again tho; we continue until astounded readers are wickedly engrossed in such disbelief of a real time and place still hoping to be under zooming cars and flying smooth thoroughfares of wireless avenues, and teleporting among all the magic; these awfully rough folks that will never thrive or morph like power rangers via some prophetic switch into that fantastic realm and sci-fi make believe; the future is fucked and rotten they grumble to ancestors no one else can see along Main St.. Yet, because of this little exchange and discovery we delivering into of all the places in the great states, the awful Holy East of Toledo. No chance right. Well…..This ‘Chicago’ folks;,,,, it’s only vitale enzymes and coolers of insulin and little boxes of everything from saccharine to probiotics that can sustain life anymore. For the benefit of all of man_kind. I must not fail. Check that. WE must not fail. Yet, if merely I think they reading this; the bionic future; alteredbeast ego of this baneful place; well then we did not. So onward we rolling…right….and illegal as shit without showering, feeling no swelling tho or shrinking from any cavities/in orifices/out pores.. Perhaps Chicago already curing the nonsense. Perhaps, but it’s driving me crazy nuts cuz it’s not real. It is not natural. I do not anymore know normalcy. Messing with my head. Or maybe it is; working. Oh the farcical imagination of it all….I just want to touch, drink the elixir of truth. The extended evolution Dulante clears, gone blues, throats, “yee, my dute..right down theer. We up in it now..” Just perfectly brainwashing, his voices waft between swimming and teetering with fearless attitude to ….well how do I explain; see, cuz there’s nothing wrong with us….outside. We look fine; as dark eye-circled and tough as the innercity, youthful; yet in these thoughts that escape his conscience i am considering in my inner operations and all the ensuing to be some invented personality, like does he have to make up hisself?, or is it like an accent? A character he portrays? Well, allergies wiped out on sleeves and snot rocketed, my my uncover the perspective that we hav none: allergies/issues/diagnosis… only…well, shit, only our imagination it seems so screamed inside with believing ANYTHING… As we making our way to turn over theese streets like adjusting publicate without a release. Theres no end and no beginning. Right here. toda!! today. nah, it’s been awaiting, been filtering through the black market for too long. this fancy cure like prohibition … Chicago! That little stretch of classic cocktail mainly like horribly developed via an old frontier town; that myth and historic mutated layout of epidemic, rose and invariably skyline a great looming wherewithal consuming defenses like forcing feeding immune systems with white noise. Bleaching, scrubbing, cleaning and clearing out valuable and naturally produced chemicals. And those born still possessing the full make up discontinued sparing stem cells {our most precious item in stock, guaranteed mmhmm} yes it takes gut, and the pit of them, the pacreas of humanity anymore couldnt thrive with thee overwhelming majority conceived with a malfunctioning the surreal nature of artificially simulating adjust the gut-flora and function interrupting peristaltic wave rhythms

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