Nougat, but the ossified kind. Like white noise creeping,
but tangible. Raccoons turned to pulp, then reanimated in God's
cartoon hands. Their crimes embedded in the clown particle of fear-feces
that shrouds a continent. An old cathedral full of groaning senile thin zombie aliens
covered in pigeon droppings. Segways wormed awry into
gutter-simulations by SkyNet in “extruder mode,” robot lung
affected by wheelchair wind. Flappy tasered squid, flowers wedged
between cheeks. The wizard's proboscis homes in;
the heart symbol between bearded breasts, on a chain. Obscure.
“I would really like the cowgirl treatment, please.”
In a gross dream about the woods - or woods in general – I had squeezed
the wizard's balls; the BBQ slapstick had been haunted (reassuringly) by
an Amazon drone, theatrical. In the Louvre hangs a painting the size of an ice rink
riddled (fittingly) with 8-bit weather. Lava separating from the flayed
mug of SpongeBob “SkullCramp” SquarePants, like paint, running.
A person standing at the side of the road disappears. Sucked off
by the wizard.