From the diary of an anthropologist

Dark purple fell from the sky
Unsightly figures spun in a circle
Girls over thirteen ate
Hormones like licorice candy
Are we over the edge yet?
What will tomorrow be?
Chief Inchu-chun
With a razor sharp tongue
He cut the words into strips
We live in packs
Modern autonomous snails
Flag of the skull and cranium
It flies over our heads
We let ourselves be intoxicated daily
Smoldering advertising
Sugar mountain
We reconcile bitter tears
Yesterday I met in Turkey
One Ali Baba
He had a lame leg
Heart wrapped in tinfoil
The world is filled with other weirdos
The moldy old man planted beets
Dad caught a jay and scabies
Frogman (non-pedophile)
From Tierra del Fuego
On Saturdays
He observed insects and mature women
They put the bathroom in a box
Vanilla wreaths with saltines
They collected pips by the lake
Healing forgetfulness
It has been raining and raining for two days
The angel gave me his hand
We all survived!
(Thank you for Google Translator)