10,000 leprechauns & 1 death star

    there is no gold
at the end of my rainbow, just a village
of cerebral pillagers ... nuggets
in crack crystal white are disguised as
sham~rock dealers, no dust
because bitches love rocks
in a bowl of Lucky Charms;
 
10,000 leprechauns armed ready
in blow body armor impersonating the recreational
of pipe liquid rapes
in a death star orbiting orifices
where foam froths
in galaxies far far away ...
 
like magnetic snow
snowmen are born in the imaginations
of blurry face`s, and fixes
are pixelized over pores
pulsing to please [ insert your needles here ] ...
and 'I'm sorry, honey' that your eggs have embryos ~
just cut the umbilical chords
and everything will be alright.