An Absurd Stream Of Consciousness

Depravity, it's no surprise... Hamster nibbling at your ear, thumping morsels at the corner of 34th and Young... Koala bears knocking on your front door holding up corsages... must be a death trap made out of coconut flavoured macaroons... I escape reality by taking a nap. "What's that? The world's coming to an end? Grab your action figures? Wait...let me go...take a nap." Staring at vignettes until you reach into the crimson Field of Depth...oh please take me somewhere nice but don't look too close...you wriggle your toes at me like, "what are you waiting for? Just close your eyes and...go." I take off into the Starry Dynamo of the Machinery of Night, always ambling after the perennially carefree children of the raw earthy incense of the banjo...tie me to a piece of wood, tug at my strings and make me into a chord...I'll shiver and hold still, so still, when all around me the atoms continue shivering, shivering through the ether, past the ether, into the singularity of a moment so still, that you breathe it in, breathe in the stillness, taste the moment...and you lock it all away in a little black box that you name Cornelius and you place Cornelius in the nook where it's all hidden, the nook that has no end, the nook that stretches on past universes, over the hunched back of the jungle cat, whose paw hovers over us like a threat...You fall to your knees and plunge your hands into the swirling sands until you make contact with the ancient heavenly organ with sheet music for Toccata and Fugue in D minor...Your fingers fumble, "but it's OK" says your mind in the voice of a German anthropologist whose name contains four syllables and IS Four Syllables..."Don't stop playing", says Four Syllables, and pulls up a stool to sit under the chemical synapses that illuminate your neuron network like a million fireflies lighting up an elm tree...a getaway that makes me weep and throw myself into the consuming beauty of the Nothingness...and I watch myself fall, while I stand on a sweeping tetrahedron above the twinkling lights of the Machine, thinking, "Maybe I should go take a nap."