Soothing Caressing Breath

Soothing caressing breath, dreams of another present, walking gently together hand in hand in sand. Her hair, blonde as the sun, tickle my face like silk, as we enter deep dollspace zero, watching the waves of revolution purging the land clean of non-sinners and non-dreamers. An old dream, still futile, from my good ol' days back at 'nam, smoking dope and spraying Gooks, and then UFO in the wind as there is no tomorrow.

Days were different then. The music as well. Lennon was king. I still imagine there is no heaven sometimes. Do you do it? Do you imagine, do you have the faith to imagine that the world could change? I do. I want to take my UFO and ride to the moon.

I want to fuck.

What I love that word.

Fuck!

Eight Existential escaetheological external eggswarms, assembling as amoral amorphic androgyne anarchists, moving mauling marauder mothers, of odd obese ominous oliphants! Rivetting raging rambling rabble-rousers in inverted ice-caps ill-faithed illers!

Words words words!

See ya' on 'duh uther side byebye.

The revolution was here yesterday.
Tomorrow, it will go to Mars.