Japan may soon be inhabited by earless rabbits. Bjork dances in a tiny pink dress. Radiohead sings about Scottish mist. It must be sometime in the early twenty-first century, the pre-tween years to be exact . . .
Bombs fall in Yemen. People die. No one knows why, except the oil, the oil, the oil must flow. If I believed in God I would probably be upset, but there is indeed a dog, and he is hungry, nemA.
Sleep Now. Sleep Now, the Bilderbergs are planning it all out, and it will be find. Sleep well but keep doing push ups, until your arms are like iron.
I want to awaken or to fall completely, eternally sleep, no more of this dreamland bullshit, yet the sun erupts.