The joyless parson wallows in his inadequate shrine: a slanted, yellow dungeon. A face zambonied into submission, disfigured by rapid snow and penetrating sunlight, with tender, gray eyes, an uninhabited moon harassed by flurries of wind, which whirl and flash their gums, reveal their genie biceps to proclaim victory over a senseless, vacant enemy.
Orgone - The Joyless Parson, The Joyless Parson
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