We too elect...?

In the deep there are those very emblems of authority; seniority takes place where priority should instead. Busted in the surf like current of the politics of the deep. In this massive black, the serpent tales of our heads of state charter the meth labs of poiseness corners, they scour the ghetto shells in search for a sustained vote, the crackling sound of another term aches their backs and flusters their might, what they thought they had.
A blind shrill salivates nightly at the rubber back snail of a putrid hopeful, scoundrel and unintelligent, new to the ways of the deep. Our culture is carnivorous, but we still only eat that which we like. Bullcrab feet from the dead chilled spines, delicious when heads of state discuss their new forth right in the distance.
Down here the pellet waists of the neutral voices (the shit runs as we also call it), cancels the dizzying furnace of the one sided lust. They blemish the reason for being different, some like it and some don't. Our Jettisoned pimples burst at the sight of our new candidates for the left has preponderance of differences, Billipeds to Akuakians where's the right has only the sickly vestibule of wrinkle or elastically woven skins. What of the new elections in such girth, one wonders, for time draws near.