188, Just Another Freeway

Pron pwned and your eyes and legs are twitching, as you slope dehydrated and spleen drained, and other things, while the flickering images wash over you still, like the road goes on inside you after a too long drive; but/while/yet nothing is as real as warm legs slipped in between from behind, that were waiting for you even while they lay sleeping, and they throw their arm back to pull you into them and fall backwards into you, sideways, as you fall forwards into them; and love is as simple as that. Because I am General Generalization, and this is my army, we got small caps and no guns, maybe paint, but sprayers only, no tick tick boom save the beats and we got back beats to make up for and more and more, and yes more. I am green, on the inside, and I only bleed for the trees and all the interconnectedness that live of and for and among, that you have no clue about, and never will. Harsh? I can't stop to care, this is all go going, and you won't find salvation at the many local steeples or in mall bigbox rows; you only care about tresses, man and woman both, trivial motherfuckers. This golden dome too shall fall and be reborn, because we only know bo bo blowing it up and back again, forever deja vu. The "animals" were more "civilized" than we ever were and all they ever did was graze prey predate live and die just like us, without once destroying everything, and for what for what, for what? One roll of the dice to watch it all from above? Are there commercials there? Will we get a flaming sword of our own when the time comes to slay in arcade righteous mode? Ost, I think I'm ready for the Viking woman to come down on her horse and get me, because those Norwegians don't play when they bust out the Aquavit and cold water Salmon, lighting the cherub cheeks rouge just like a dolls, with eyes like sin; of whatever first sin fits in, your own was told stories storytime: Once upon a time, there was a man named Vital who met a girl named Water, and on their first laying eyes one upon the other, wouldn't you know but they were swept up into a distant valley by a furious storm, and they ate some found potatos washed clean by the rains, and when the wind let up they went exploring and saw grains growing upon the hills, but they never saw another soul, and so they made a home for themselves, and they liked their freedom and were content with the life they made in that place and in their bond and company, and they had a son named Caraway by and by, and he was all babyfat and laughter, the opposite of worry, and they lived happily ever after. Because the test screenings said so. Let me kiss it all better. It was only a dream.