blinded by sound

15 Dec

Here are some more midnight/blind drabbles. Also, Wil hallucinates about unicorns, possibly the highlight of my school day.

It starts:

O, technicolor snowballs, the terrible twos, all makes sense somehow but that answer is a bit of a myster- oh, my stomach what did I do
And the rhythm is in us, it is part of us, of our thoughts
Neutral Milk Hotel must have exploded in alone analytic hellfire modern day fire and brimstone I suppose, but I want to be myself going into the abyss, sail away like the thoughts I think one day decades of memory. God, but-
Golden dentures melted for the poor prophets of the accurate time, of the terrible wit over of the glory that (scribble) life of the trumph the triumph
And there is nothing better than to hallelujah there always is let the coyotes take me away to the sunbeam butterflies, though the atmospheric pressure so here, teaching the things inside to bear a thir
prees, to
tell the life of a silver darkness, remembering and remembering
on and on, this glory for eternity, let things sleep and let our minds rave and wiggle and
Effort of the ties, the pole in the trees would make an exallabling(sic) memory if beheld
Bortglomt I certainly hope I love you until the end of time , or at least of this year because the end of time is a formidable challenge
But the glory in our hearts rolls on and on, trying to escape bit we refuse tonight, make me feel like a redhot poker out of the hot hot air bellows-

The rest of that page is nigh-incomprehensible, but I tried valiantly to read it. There were several mentions of “today” but that was about it.
Probably going to do it again tonight.


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