They come... they look they're me I am me and here we are and it goes it dies it smells I'm inside out with the things taht are the ones who be the ones who be the ones who be
What? Where is this? Close. This. door. I smell it. It's there can't you?
WHAT? I'm scared. Of what?
The smeell is getting stronger. It's dark and dark and smelly and scary and dirty... it's dirty...
Pink floyd is playing.
CANT YOU HEAR IT!?
where are we?
I know exasctly where we are. Where the FUCK are we?
Deep inside we relax and let go and there it is... relax and let go you'll feel better... deep breath and the stress passes the stress passes...
The shrotest poem in history: "A". By A.A. Miline (get it? A.A.? No.. not funny.
Blah. There it is in me the pearl of wisdom is it? NOPE it's a turd. Where'd that come from? The thoughts bounce and flip and am I thinking? I think I'm thinking, which of course ruins the epxperiment... runins it bad. But maybe it doesn't. My eyes are closed at least. I don't see what I type. Hopefully the keyboard hasn't yet betrayed me.
Echo. It's an echo. Of what? HAthe spiders have talked... oh questions will be had of course I see it now. ARK!