Positive Dialogues
Servititous sits in silenced solitude without cent to his name or sense to his brain. Moronicon meanders in his microscopic machine, unmapped and malnourished. Both a mess, both at their worst at their best. They’re worse when they’re less. But better together, magnets pull the lever, code untapped but not malicious. They touch hands cautiously, aimlessly, really because there’s nothing else to do. Their fingers intertwine slowly but eventually fully, enveloped. Lettered, stamped and sealed inside solid structures made of magic mountains. The weight of the task reflecting the previous sentiment. Mountainous. Mounting pressure offset by pleasurable feelings and positive dialogues. Oppressive sting flushed out within swirling sensibilities of a belonged identity. Sing-song symphonies and soliloquies serenading the slithering slimes in a subtly serendipitous fashion.
What does any of this mean? It’s simply a dream. Indulge me before you can find the reason to scream. Focus on the map, leave the ruminations behind. It’s better to be blind than to have depth when you unwind. You tasted death and it was like a bitter wine. Taste it again and it won’t be any more fine...r. You don’t even like wine.