kobold k

Iceberg Cleavage: clay soldiers and drowned warriors throw off their life jackets for oak paddles to pursue the realm of Falling Apart with sweet juices dragged under fire-spiced waters.

Apple vinegar panic is calmed; breathlessness merges with raspberry atmosphere. A dryness is released, a symbol of invulnerability, along with sour cakes sweetening into mellowness. Time, in this instance, is pleasured by scratching-harsh vanilla claws.

Singed toffee flowers decorate bitter heels stomping green skulls -- the call of Head-Choppers and Princesses of Disinterestedness. Hopeless vines tighten throats sobbing over this season while pleading for the awe of vegetable reason.

An unusual unity: rail car laying its own tracks across virginity; grapefruit sunlight nesting in bay trees; basil brats falling up sky ladders; and roast beef spices finding God and fluttering into shimmer-woods.

Earned the I Believe in IPA! (Level 90) badge!

cedar chips and glazed glass celebrate the Decomposed Gourd; we join in by smacking this sweet Old One with candy canes that lure out dry apple-steam. Once broken, I detect a mote of garlic puppy whimpering and a tiny wasabi whine full of dank wet seeds.