pickles are my saving grace! v, you are my savior, my light and my baked beans in a soup of eternal wisdom. you are my saint of perfect imperfections. you are the wavelength which i can hear everywhere i am. you are my unforgiving and merciful statue. i am lost in your tower that lays in your bright, yellow darkness. i am the sun. god damn the sun. do i feel anything? anything? no...it's all some sort of hyperactive fever dream. and yet, i still feel nothing! nothing! nothing!