SMITTEN: lunacy glue for the soul.

One cheer for stream of conciousness. I I like it when you write down your thoughts as fast as your little fingers will hit the keys without care for coherency or story line, you kind of disassociate your hands from your brain until your trance is interrupted. Someone told me that's called a Joycian freewrite. Meh, whatever.

invasion of the body snatchers

under my bed there was a thing under the way you see i can't stop the soliloquy of my life from falling apart and we only wanted you to feel like the permanent eyeball on these strands of golden nudity when you feel something that hurts that bad you can’t wish that it all would not be under my skin and when the clock shadows over the blinking blinking moon sometimes all you can do is sit and go and let the keys click like someone hasn't cleaned it out in forever and then the can will sometimes start to talk and you think how can this princess be part of the spring when everything else is black and there's a nice woman who wants lipstick on the desk overly emotional wretch wanting to hurt the penguin of the link that hinges the door and lets the air breathe in hideously disfiguring the way that almost everybody can get along but the color and the data is over that and when the lips fall off and the mind is released from responsibility and one woman can ruin his life and doesn't that mean that when the shoes are clean it's a sad thing even if the window eats itself and

At that point my trance was interrupted. I could have gone on, but that would marr the purity of my train of thought.