About Stand Under the Don't Tree and Riddle Me This
We of the Don't Tree sincerely regret the site's unfinished state. Consider this: time you had previously allotted to this site can now be dedicated to things like your children, lover, and/or making/finding the previously mentioned. You may thank us later.
Also, enjoy this quite bad exquisite corpse (concerning capitalism).
My eyes pierce most cinematically, Cinematically, frame-by-frame, the edifice was effaced, Effaced dung-piles written by whores, Whores leaping like lords of oblivion over eldritch precipices, Precipices steeped in qualms and frothed milk, Milk dribbling unchecked, emanating from creases unknown, Unknown parodies of a frauline; they are dainty, Dainty hands, so delicately unraveling wisterial confidence at whim, Whim, whistle, and devour carnal daemonium, Daemonium kingdoms rising behind and between the walls, obfuscated, Obfuscated, and covered in glittered steak sauce, Sauce contributing to aesthetic appeal, but ultimately providing deceptive cover, Cover in bonnets and a satchel of cheese, Cheese accumulating in places where cheese is not necessarily welcome, Welcome to the menstruating, bleeding, American dream, Dream-like lucidity, wearing images of control over sublimation, Sublimation of conscience of sex and of sex.
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