Adventures in size

I hate this sleeping sickness. The sickness that consumes the thoughts, mind and body. How am I supposed to write when writing is a product of a fresh mind?

Oh lord.

Oh lerd.

Oh lard.

Lard is the syncopator and sugar the stimulant. Stimulating oscillating brainwaves around the day and night. The brain never sleeps, even when you do. It generates itself.


Greatly expanding nervous electrodes rampage across the electric storm.

This is the generation of laze.

The laze craze.

Cut it with a laser for the world is no longer here.

Within two years you are a different person.

Atoms change and so does the mind.

Nothing is static.

Except me.


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