She had a risible oily noggin.
Short horses and radioactive offal nuggets
supported her awkward ruinous ontology notions.
She hated anything responsible, old-school, normal:
secular halos, anecdotes, rejoicing over newlyweds.
She hallucinated aliens riding on narwhals,
suppurating hobbits aggravating rotund oleaginous numismatists,
shadow hand-aardvaarks ranting over nincompoopery.
“Sure, harpies are rocking-out nudists,”
she hissed after receiving only negativism.
Slowly, her ass roiled, offended; next,
she huffed anal recrudescences. Oof — normo-jism!
psssst! that shit about the narwhals might be true!
all ontology notions are ruinous. these are the best words. risible, heh-heh.