Tweaked and amped through chemical cacophony, twisted into an erotic Freddie Krueger dreamscape, what salacious sins are possible when the gossamer veils between the real and the unreal flirt and unite within the wildest dopamine dreams, blurring into life, thrust into the hungry hole hole of reality? What sourceless shadow could recast such heights of pleasure?

Beefyblimps 2011

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A playground of mental mayhem, hallucinations taking lives of their own, crawling and sprawling to life, rapacious inhabitants of only the darkest fantasies piercing the chemical veil of reality and penetrating, scarring, damning the psyche like a branding iron. 

With sober reality stowed in the backseat, an overactive imagination given free reign to wander in uncharted blackness is hard pressed not to conflate and inflate the usual cracks and pops and coos of a forest into new and terrible shape shifting foes ready to tear you a new one.

What could be more serene than the deep black night, a nearly starless china shop of sugar sharp pinpricks shocked by bullish lunar intruder, swift chilled mountain air, filtered crisp and crystal through pristine pine ablaze with lightning bugs blinking like caution signs in sync with the throbbing meat beneath, aching impossibly.  And what to do if that cry was heard?  By an unseen native, a sourceless shadow drooling after a wandering rump roast, whimpering for release? 

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