A defective quantum steam engine cannot dissolve water currents. Two-sided satellites make poisonous wires dance in the Autumn moonlight. Movers in love with dopamine’s evil nerve graphite never shed tears when parting.
Meeting down by the quay,
Sea of Sabotage,
most influential global grin genre
lighting up the sky,
with the soft lullabies
of weeping Wendigo eyes.
Ominous neuro-graffiti, enraptured with a Dopamine Harvester, like a hoax of an iridescent jet fuel, can’t melt sea punk beams. Near yesterday’s forgotten calliopes, bipedal satellites grow toxic umbilical melodies, preconceived entropy buds flower on crisp, frozen gaze
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,—and methought I had,—but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act IV sci, William Shakespeare