but it was a foul one, not the kind I'd imagine
not the one in which bleached anuses were relaxings, endless streams of pink pubes with faint fruity taste were growing like mosses, not the one where brown qts were bathing
only a river of broken knives, dead dogs and instestines
oh yeah, I also dreamt of the storebought soft drink with knockoff taste of oranges (not quite the taste of the real ones but those are garbage anyway so I don't give a damn) only to find a cheaper knockoff at my doorstep today... kinda gay
I can hear the song of whippoorwills, they've tuned in accordance with my breaths, theres no more time, I'll have to cook dimitrij soon and extract by any means neccessary before the monday