A World Where the Light Borrows Time From the Shadows.
A Concrete Delirium of Intangible Thoughts and Forgotten Metal.
A Mere Blue Plastic Disk to Assess My Worthiness.
All Colours Around Me Disturbingly Faint,
All Previously Familiar Now Distorted,
Their Surfaces Deranged,
Their Forms Mercurial.
Camperlab
The Storm Has Risen and Has Now Made Its Way Up to My Eye Level,
The Spikes Embellishing the Floor Under My Toes Surprisingly Supple,
My Coat Substantial Enough to Hide in Itself All My Personalities,
My Boots Concealing the Waves I Feel Already Embracing My Legs.
I Beg for Somebody to Straighten These Askew Grids Flashing in Front of My Eyes.
To Wake Me Up From This Dystopian Daydream Disguising Itself as the Embossed
Skin of a Ruby Crocodile.
To Pull Me Out From These Apocalyptic Files Relentlessly Rubbing My Surface in
An Attempt to Reveal My True Grimy Flesh.
I Remember This Place Formerly Less Twisted and Warped.
Where Did I Park My Car
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