“ Man, I’m dying over here.” PORK PLASMA
“For the love of riffling it to synthetic cyborg things on a gloomy MidWest day?” PORK PLASMA
“Jesus Johnny. You don’t go to a fucking BAHMITZFA with a bunch cocktail wieners and no greeting card!! Ingested Pork Plasma
“Drink the clear woodsy treasure out of the clear bottle and go with the immediate. If you end up in Maine on #FryeIsland , tell them?” ~ YOU NEED PORK PLASMA!!
You need the woods, the delectable beast in the realistic furry costume looking for the ultimate lumber. Before long, you are on desolate road in the middle of the fucking Everglades. You are terrified and the goddamn thing that pops out at you that looks like the ‘Swamp Thing” from the 80’s, jumps out on you from an amphibian den and you lose your fucking mind under a spell of chlorophyll delight. Balls you trip, feeling the love from genderless beings filled with insecurity and grief.
“Give me what I need man!” I am fed up with all of the pacifying. Give me the cure, comfort, SMOKY ~