providential pits of clotted fate. glottal be-in. il merchant. so i'm reminded about the loss of values. maybe i should eschew the world, find the icy pleasuredome.
three crew-cut sports dicks bouncing in their chairs. one gorgeous blond with a gaudy ring. i have a walmart ring. cirrus logic shakes your riff to its soul. shakes on a plane. i envision turbulence in murder sense is an everyday chevrolet. chrome-letting the birthing stock, a chromlette running through the dyke hole. she's got a candy cunt, comes in handy, merlot flows from her nipples. why am i always tortured with beautiful people in my peripherals?
plains refrain, a gorgeous day in a gleemonex way. it's michael's shore, with a sheep and a fox. all the law we know. the gurgling chud language is faint now, indistinguishable from white noise. non-insistent itches felt from here and there. the brazen nihilism of the opiate is fading, but what is in its place, i'm not sure. maybe a purple-veined dick joke. maybe cheney's got a gun.
the codeine-induced hypnogogic images were surprisingly vivid, exotic, and quirky, and no thc was involved. just reverie, the raw material of the mind, intersecting muddy folds of the cortex.
unprecedented levels of habit - the ironic novelty of it! what do we do? there are no historical analogs for this depth of modern exhaustion!