Grebellicue

It was a farce, I tell you a farce, I tell you. No one would have let it rain that long if the green was on still, I ran as fast as I could underwater but the best I could manage to kick up was a current, and the old hatchback roll right over that guy's body. I let it gel in my mind, the light bends through it still focused and the picture is one with hidden brushstrokes, something honest and possibly charming but three dimensional, or possibly not a numerical dimension but an internal dimensionality that never needs to be defined to anyone else, except to project the visual and the impact of the dream. "The next time you turn into a boy, will you kick your brother's ass for me?" I am a tactician, you rely on me at all times to push you through the opposing elements. I will them away from me and they fall like starved gulls into the ocean. I don't care to kill or mind if I die, for this dream I know the end to, and I am not invincible but a force that props up the image, so we can all see through the day what will be left once my legs are broken and my teeth no longer function, I am then a cage to restrain all of the dark matter compiled through my lifetime, it is now a task saved for gods to keep it from rupturing and overwhelming the field of vision.