kaleidoscopic_and lotuseater a further push towards the inevitable collapse of what i call myself. how long can this go on? ten more years of stabbing myself in the head everyday? gumdrops and walrus whiskers, tear my own face apart. nihilistic thoughts and cosmic urges. soft-fruit serindipity severs the link between destiny and skull-fucking. why wont she answer her phone? meat-based produckts spilling their innermost secrets like blood collecting in pools spelling out my social security number. if i suffer, know that it was because of this. rubber tubing screaming "this is not real real real real real real" shitfuck. drugs are the only thing that seem real to me anymore. that sounds self-destructive, and it probably is. but the moon people and the mushroom dimension are home to me. an open wound, exposed in its painful beauty. the glistening colors suggest infection.. how erotic. 051215 what's it to you? who go blather from