Greasepaint Inferno
Bring the fire crew for the open pit,
strewn dead graveflowers stinking up the smoke like garlic,
a morbid joke. Cretinous clowns emerge from the smoldering wreckage, faces peeling off, black gloves shocking with zapper buzz wounds, their creepy libidinous psalms propounding lunatic poetics
Tombs with a view, their blazing polka dotted costumes run askew to logic, nightmare-fuelled jettison setters sitting on a fuselage eating rainbow-tainted meat, gore mongering harlequin androids atrophied in their body suits
Discolored lips enlarged with malformed paint which drips,
yet another inferno underneath burnt out eyeballs
and giant jiggling shoes filled with red jello shot jism, loaded with tiny toy guns that will not stop protruding their way inside this never ending nightmare circus
The latest flame burns all the perverted clown shoes off, forces them
to be replaced with stripper heels, insists they perform grotesque
dance moves in front of the sizzling open mic which is programmed to explode
The poltergeist clown doll is pole dancing within
your bedroom closet, waiting for you to open the door
into hell. Bells of satiety peel, the notorious harlequinade spread like
jam on sex sandwich bread, as she executes the funeral dance, bump and grindcore romance, wounds from charred, twisted and bizarre wombs rippling like curses through the circus tents, as bent, deformed and violent nether-clowns down their party favors, drugged and lulled to sleep in cotton candy ecstasy, with one, two, three times three maledictive curses spread prodigiously
The oldest of the clowns forms the apex of a rotting and sadistic pyramid in which hellbent volcanic ash pours out of the mother clowns mouths like a gravy vat of drying blood. A mass attack heap of gelatinous grits, another fusion mix of horror sauce, grinding in to the griddle cake, singed dressing, a side dish of slasher porn, broken clown neck bone
Torn recipes for macabre meat and greets, faded out photographs of
the St. Valentine’s Day Strip Bar massacre, where the lush and lurid
gothic clowns pour themselves down the poles of ice and woe
in an orgy of bloody telepathic silences. The thin blue Picasso clown and the fat pink Rubens jester fester like Bubonic buboes made of boobs, gawked at by randy rubes. Two clown girls face off in the ring, with outsized boxing gloves made of corn meal, landing kill blows down to reeling iron toes.
A hawker of phlegmy circuses clashes with the berzerk and seismic flirts of the clown hookers union, that stoops to conquer time with pyroclastic rhymes for days, mirrorhall maze of hallucinated stitches down the back of catastrophic events in which a strained amalgamation of Snow White’s Stepmother applies a ton of clown makeup to cover up her aging face, then stares at her evil clown head until every mirror cracks, the glass breaks through the windows, the windmill splits in half, revolving clown heads drip with blood
Convulsing clown heads split in half, one black eye, one dark red eye
with giant millipedes crawling out, unfurling, preparing to light another fire, turn the whole human race into damned clowns, place the most hideously diabolical clowns in leadership positions.
Horror Sleaze Trash 