APRIL 12 '24 - 3PM FRIDAY
Listen to the noise- can you hear her?
Handpuppet noose do say: "DO YOU SEE THE PURPLE IN SKY? LIKE THE FLESH SURROUNDING THINE EYE?"
The appropriate response to such a statement is to simply nod, "Yes."
Here, a brief excerpt to document my awaited arrival:
"My eyes have gone from cocoa to clay mud. There is such light that the ambience is undetectable. Eerily cadaveresque in essence. Without my mute, dull strawberries, I’m grasping at the outer liners of her majesty. These mannequins aren’t aware that the captain has taken a step back, and let its own jesters grab the joysticks. They haven’t the faintest clue. In a way, it is hilarious; tragedy. Lie within the sea of spillage riddled linens, with those potent berries dancing on your tongue. Your fattiness requires it doubled and doubled by the day. Fucking stupid. The worminess doesn’t end there, of course! You are relic stone, reminiscent of the tombs of long gone local populations. The only differing factor might be a lack of a prideful name on display.
That’s right, rip away. Those stringy tendons aren’t going to unravel themselves… or are they? This sounds edgy and somewhat fictitious in nature, hyperbolic, but it just IS a matter of reality. Mangual. You need to hurl around, fuck shit up, but how? Remember, mister tombstone, you don’t breathe the same oxygen as the clothed skeletons around you presently. It’s only a matter of time before reanimation occurs, good luck!"