D|o|G, 2019 | Forårets komme og påske-passionens store drama har inspireret de største kunstnere igennem tiderne. Det er derfor nærmest en selvfølge, at også D|o|G – Diaper of Glory – slutter sig til de ophøjede skarer af mestre, der har beriget og besunget påsketiden med deres kunst.
I observe frost
I observe frost. The frost of the lovely weather, the frost of the one and only guitar refrigerator. And the frost of my purple freezing hanging man stones.
The rope of the pure sandwich people will not and to some degree cannot decide the fate of this driverless moon car dinner. We wait and then wait some less to the ever-growing moaning sounds of my public pubic trimming. The bucket has to laugh and the door has to charge its neck as we all become the wallet of tuna trust.
Lilly and Sam are in love. They are really one and the same, mainly because both of their torsos were surgically combined by a mentally ill pixelated ringworm.
Easter is just around the corner very closely located to my local plastic surgeon who improves my horrible ageing by passionately putting a massive amount of plastic in my asshole.
Holidays are nice, as long as they include automatic firearms and a significant measure of blood loss from a futuristic health care system.
The little boat will float, forever, as forever always includes a boat or “time and wine” as some may say/don’t agree on.
Green, Blue, Red, and Black. The noodle hat is enduring an Oklahoma attack. From a grim and dim pregnant chimp, who bleaches the spineless paper of an unwritten shrimp.
The number of the clock is new. The rear-view mirror is askew. I undress until my time is up. In the most likely event that I’m a piss-filled bonsai cup.
Fatty mutter and fatty father aborted my favourite brother into a lager. I smiled and smiled and smiled. And then smiled and smiled and smiled and looked normal.