i must still be hallucinating from the pain...
the clouds... the sunlight are all unreal...
it must have been spectacular...
i mean... if a boxer gets knocked out
his brow is usually gushing blood...
wobbly... mr. wobbly...
   what a scrape it must have been...
that my forehead was itching with blood...
pain: reality: absolutely: spectacular....
sort of like...
   Tasmin Archer's song...
    sleeping satellite...
   pain is so spectacular... it's unavoidable...
i became slightly more uninhibited in my ontology...
eh... as you do... experiencing the sort
of head-trauma i just did...
you what? blue's not pink?!
the Sulphur tinged cliffs of Dover
and i'm not, i'm not: colour-blind?!
me too... vanilla is a bland taste...
i much prefer dairy tasting ice-cream...
i prefer creamy ice-cream to vanilla ice-cream...
with pain and all the necessary reiterations
of the unfathomability of life...
because if nothing... no... no use...

    eh?! what?!
             i know i'm disorientated...
but that's no reason to cling to me being
unproductive... i'm not a ******* ******...
you what?! maybe i'm hearing not
so good...
                give me a day, or two... to tow...
you what?
sorry... but this sort of politics isn't going to
stick...
             no: nein Weimar Republic... nein!
nein! nein!
                 ist diese kann nein must!
not unto my children: or any children!
you, *******, paedohphile retards!

            no! no!