Starting over. We bought no traps. It's part of the commune. In the market for chopsticks. This skit starts off with grandma in it. The damn target. It be faster, fix it. Thinks a bit. Right to fib. To congrat. No matter. Ready or not. Off of the center. Just missed it. To them, it's just redneck at vaudeville. Tone rodeo. Are you there or not? I love it. Love talking. They are such dim idiots. Do you want me to kiss her yet? Go kick the devil, or level. Inaugurate today. It's the inaugural love. It or loathe it. Kick off terrace. I got him to nod. Oh yes. I'll obey the law or against it. It's not a rule. Why don't I tell you about a torn little trick? The tick of the tire. Arachnid. Little astronomy, yes? Ceremony salt. Tell the tiger to wear it. Aw, forget it. Quarter to not rat. Attaboy. Let it not eat. Rock until you're rough. Had to ruin it. Red and adolescent. The last, a homewreck. Progressive. Officer core. Hypocritical. Like a turtle die. Adult right ankle. I'm not a good leader. Really old cotton eye. You want to talk to a lawyer. Read, wallet, cut it now boy. You have wanted out of Delaware. He ran away far toward at now ever you. I review on a telegraph you have one hour. Ruin oh boy, I park and let it out over re. He rabbit dolittle the neck rub honey or. Write your number, can it tell the tale of re? Your full lateral weight for after bed time riot aware. We will rot or rummage, that's not far off the deal. Who read her what for? Rough tar hetero. We will lead it for after and it's that egg them on towards the way. Your wet straw ought not gate, that's the director's stuff. Today he'll lure, or read the red little girl. He'll take a pill and rest dear Lore a lie. That is a rotten carrot, it's static egg time to go warts do rule I. I have the red straw, I could not get it past to the arachnid director. That's a happy little roll of weed personnel, if that cat leaves. The veil tic tac fillet, or wrap do you full oral, until he is passed out rock car written. He is courageous, contage and luck of war stranded eyes. Say, if it hurts, raw ankle, not that it cost my rock cyanide erected emasculate Motorola full head. Party head to lift casket live it. Time is exciteful, a date rape deal of fuller autumn, hay relax. You made it care or be maker. I sucked at it, tunnel canal I stood fast. That dude's almanac let attend to make us irreconcilable. Arachnid egg sac. I damn you that is a real mutt. Real full of it, you ready to love it excess? G'day mate. A ton of mad sex, that love it eater. I had followed for a year, cover here. And sit I oh, you no matter just give me the girl. I just about knocked her rice will come out of the kettle, I can't, I'm flaccid a bit. To bad a cold, knit nickel take a photo, I'm a glue giver ready. Come up to bat. Such. He'll rig it, for them evicted ready. Mad Iowa. It is too near, ever clear, rough duel of fads ready to love. Life zesty phone a dial. Lady nap it's easy if you live a little, dear. Staff full of dig hour, lucrative a real new city I warn them, he dared to give in rough digger lake a stab. That puma key, there rebel kid. I'm a topic a token dim, locked I'd have it. Play me one of them sweetheart tunes, that makes the gentlemen croon for the security of a fair maiden's bosom, dear boy. You are brave master steady, and we're off afford to ruckus after work. That won't make it sick two tacks isn't it trying. To spit foam oh them yet. Tame little one awfully soft dirt tennis zig zag. I get stuck, I am not that crow red fast sucker. Odd drop off forward may you try some of your are beret you will. No loitering, rough me home mister. I am your flying object Puerto Rico stuff is after work that in make it static, I was guessing. A true false. I love rain over the limit. To my letter of one, you are full of lies. Laugh at your tag, this egg saw ecstatic, I am the tax collector. That's a fun sucker you got, we'll have to catch a spot. The real mayor, that's him a moment ago. Get your own loan. Neo-noir. I would have got my own mom, am I stuff of lore? At times I'll tag it, all you have got. A circus enough of that rock your socks. I can't make it at school. I guess I got it right. I have got sacks full of ray guns enough to last a lot. To lance a lot, he can guess you're full of cast over fire talk to the girl. I'm sad, I can't, that's a hard rocker tap full. Into the creek, I had to get you to laugh a little. A cemetery faucets, a man of no it's times of famine. We're in one. Unknown ruin, a map of senate storage. For the mass to coffee wrap them out. Until you grow up and can take it to hats to your kid not to laugh. At record we have a knack for dismal rig. The top collateral very eventful. A munch significance acknowledge.

There were continuous streaming red lights moving forward all around me. The sensation of floating. Such a smooth, safe sensation, secure. Moving so quickly, the experience felt beyond time. An everlasting moment, bound between beginning and end. A liquid moment. The solid ground meeting the unrestricted air. Not the collision, but the passing through. Ignorance of the anticipated explosion. Swift, arpeggiotic melodies contrasting slow steadfast ambience. Both complimented by repeating rhythmic funk. Traveling speeds at over a hundred miles an hour. But then again, it couldn't have been much more over 25. We were tunneling through existence. A roller coaster that won't stop, all I want is for the force to relinquish. Yet I take no action, as the pain caused by the disruption is speculated to be far worse than allowing the ride to run its course. The only true anecdote would be to decided to board. I chose to do nothing, as that is all that I can do. However, my decision to do nothing is also the choice to allow everything. Therefore, I'm really doing everything, as everything encompasses everything, passive and active. I can't do nothing. To counter this predicament, I must choose the most minuscule act. I close my eyes: complete terror. A stationary free-fall. Seemingly never-ending. I'm aware of everything. It's too much. Overloaded by what's going through my mind, body, and surroundings. Three become one. Focus, my eyes are open. My perception has shrunk to the size of a quarter. I'm walking through the desert at this moment. A giant pair of glasses rests in the sand. I can hear the voices of those near me. They are gigantic, yet distorted and distant. Words spell out within the clouds above me. "Everyone is just trying to make everyone feel comfortable." "Woah." The conversation is flying around the room like a three-dimensional game of Snake. There are multiple players and multiple overlapping games. Each representing something different. The first, conversation. Movement is second. Thought is another. Yet is found in conjunction to all, but still is its own singular entity. Music, light, physical entities, both animate and inanimate. I'm trying to get everything down that Jaden is dictating. I'm seated upon a stone pillow, surrounded by abyss. I'm at a desk, accompanied by a gas lamp, ink and quill. A pillow is tied to the top of my head. A plume penetrates. I can see Jaden in the dark sky, his voice booming. Furiously transcribing. I understand nothing that he says. A goblin suddenly appears on the ceiling. I run atop the stone wall of the dilapidated castle. It is following at movements just quicker than I can perceive. Huge luminescent, horrifying yellow eyes, perfectly round. I'm not running away, I'm running after M. I can see her clung to the 12-foot-tall fence, adjacent to the highway. It's dark and it's storming. I begin multiple sentences simultaneously, and fail to complete a single one. She is silent, I think drooling, possibly asleep. I do love her so. The fence electrifies with a loud hum and blue sparks of light, accompanied by tinny explosive sound waves. There's a naked red-haired man on fire, located on the opposite side, attempting to fuck the fence. He succeeds. A gallon of white, hot steaming liquid flows out of his penis onto M's leg, like spilled milk from a carton, but burning. "I can't handle the feeling of feeling feelings." "I'm sorry, I just don't know what you mean." M takes off running across the dilapidated stone wall then stops mid stride. Perception has rotated 90 degrees to the left, she is frozen mid-air. Everything is steel. A coiled snake, about the length of half a football field, quickly slivers up and swallows M in one gulp, sucks her insides out, and spits out her skin still resembling her image, yet quite deflated. The skin suit floats the ground, back and forth as a feather does. Perception is restored to its original state. Do you want to just keep going, do everything, or do you want to do like, cuts? I feel completely devoid of love. It's sad to think I can't connect to the sad guy with the acoustic guitar. I just find that dumb, they all seem exactly the same. "Huh, that's sad." "Yeah, I don't know maybe." I'm not used to reading my own writings. Reading in my head. I'm laying upon my bed. I cannot seem to find a resolution between the urge to act and the desire to continue my current state for eternity. One feels impossible and the other is impossible, without partaking in unhealthy behavior. However, the present behavior could also be construed as unhealthy. To wallow. There's a mental barrier that sometimes sleep can only overcome. This could be the result of needing more rest, and more unconscious time. It could also mean that I'm just prone to becoming stuck in a rut. However, the case may be, I have yet to discover a solution. This actually is not entirely true, as I said before, sleep can often help things. This results in me losing eight or more hours of precious time, most often more. And also partaking in masturbation. But this often leads to losing one to three hours of time, it can make me depressed if I cope with such a method too often. This method can often get in the way of productivity, as during the periods that I am active, I have trouble thinking of anything else. This gets in the way of reading, film, music, and discernment. I cannot think straight. Which causes me to become irrational. When I make irrational decisions, I feel that I lose my grip on my sense of self. Which, in turn, causes me to feel depressed, and very anxious. I stated above that I have a distaste for sleep, as it causes myself to lose quite a bit of time. I should clarify that I am unopposed to sleep, when I feel that it's time to partake in sleep. The problem that I have is that these stagnant moments most often come at times when I do not have this feeling of readiness. The problem in the past is that I can never come to this feeling. But at the present moment, I feel like I have it mostly under control. It is sometimes still a struggle. My lord, my luge, the only love that could be for thee. Could not exist, should not exist. And I cry out to the all-fleeing spy, I wish this love would not persist. And it begins to rain. Water falling through the sky, the big rift is on its way. Sighs. Okay. Quivering. I love you. Prickly, like a gust of air, a quick one. Yeah. Crying. I'm so sorry. I have to do this. I need to get better, again. Yeah. Sternly, I'm glad I did this. Later, I'm glad I was the one that actually did this. Today, I'm benefiting from the fact that you did this. Whatever. I'm not happy about anything. Reality, not I, my voice is not your voice. Discontinue. To begin with a downward slope, quite steep, quickly turns to a slight upward incline, progresses Fibonacci style. After some kind of drop, there is no more. No more is of course so much more. Here, the rain never ceases or deceases. And we continue... I have an idea for a story. There is a house with an attic. Inside the attic, there is another house. It is assumed that individuals are living within this attic, within this attic's house. But no one has ever met them or fully seen them. The residents of the larger house act as though they do not know this house in the attic exists. Someone, possibly the main character, whoever that may be, goes inside. Not sure for what reason as of yet. Inside the attic's house, which appears quite small, but is in fact very large, is the larger house's interior. The residents of the large house live inside the attic's house. It is unclear yet, if it is the same people, or if there is a different explanation, such as clones, representations, lookalike actors, hallucinations, et cetera. I am really unsure of who they are. I am really unsure if I should pursue this story. And I'm really unsure of who I am. Ghost, not android, want race unfortunate, frightened to end. It is not special. It is just all. You know, speak love of ugly, ick fat yum. Feeling. It is more important. It is of a higher purpose. It is meant to be. It is special. I want to be apart of it. I want to be apart of the experience. I want to experience someone else. I am not satisfied. How long can you wait? This implies a choice. It is ignored. But that doesn't really matter.