Haha what ******* absolute gibberish.
The screen is glazed with honey.
Words. What are words when the honey is so sweet. Sweet enough to drown out insignificance.
The screen of honey is strong and is a sieve for *****.

The sudden realisation that you're toxicaly self aware is poisoness and astounding and who the **** even cares. You're a hippo you're a butterfly, a god. And you're deeply, unrepentantly alone. In your hole. Down your well. Floating in a stream up that doesn't exist.

My days end was entirely my fault, that day.
I was the one that drank 9 cans of lager, and licked that sweet, sweet ecstasy like it was sherbert dip dab.
And my arms went dead.
And I was drifting in a cloud of pure euphoria.
And the dog was looking at me all silly like.
And I was the one who was bored and lost enough to do this on my own, by myself, with the dog.
And so, when the pulse settles, and the room is no longer spongy, and the dog doesn't feel as soft and luscious.
I guess I'll see you on the other side.

I look like the biggest *******.
When I'm stumbling about the house watching square faces become diagonal.
They ask
Are you OK, why are you looking at me like that?
Am alrigghhtt, am jusstt lucking.
Silly square heads being all diagonal.
Leave me to be a *******