I am a vessel, a vessel of churning vomitous nectar, I'm seating inside another vessel of metal and plush.
Behind me is several other sandwiched vessel creations.
The man stationed behind me..I wonder if he's a ******? My mind implores endlessly trying to separate from this present vessled state. He dips his pinky into his nostril fishing for a crusty mucus nugget.
That nostril of his connected to his flesh adorned vessel, I wonder if it has felt love?
I have ruled out the thought of him being a ******, a man confident enough to excavate his nostrils in broad day light has surely had ***. But has this furrowed brow vessel of a man felt love?
Have I felt love?
The mechanic vessels blare on their horns. Green light. We all move in fluid motion again. A sea of mindless hopeless vessels.