That hair, those pantsuits, her tachyons entangled within the sphere, vibrating at just the right frequency so that they exist and do not exist simultaneously.
Cloaked in steam, his eyes wild with the burden of an eternity no human should experience. He gathers strength from a woofing crowd of "people who have had their blood replaced with tiny machines."
Bodiless and tireless, they move with an obscene purpose.
My family wasn't interested in memes or racial theory. No matter how hard I tried to connect with them, they proved extremely intolerant.
This week, I'll be playing an '80s arcade rom rumored to be a CIA mind-control experiment. Please like and subscribe!
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