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.
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