and my frontal lobe felt thick like a slab. why? i turned it off in horror. i admit the fascist terrifies me. can i promise to never look at him again? you know how we're drawn to the abyss? i thought i could be over that. the fascist is like the fall off the tower like the guy in plaid overcoat and hamburg stepping off the mac realty vortex, into the abyss. can we avoid that, in this time, unaware, in dreams? it feel like i don't sleep and i don't wake and i fall continually in the abysmally pandemic reality. yet it's personal to me, and that's why tomorrow i meet again in the rear garden luckily looking into slightly frontally opening.
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