L

     "Wake me up..."

      The lad looked around him as though he was in search of something. Like he was charmed or spelled or had been brainwashed by some apt alakazam. He couldn't rely on his instinct. He felt like it had been defected by what he couldn't fathom. Like he was hallucinating. Probably he wasn't in his sewn sense. Probably twas getting sewn and he was just an onlooker. He probably was a part of it or had paid for it or was seeing it. He couldn't be be so sure. And of course he needed to sure else he would be a die tossed about like the tip of the hay like the May's wanky winds. His rage was burnished in rage. That was ironical. He didn't know what he was feeling. He was sure that his feelings were just pulling salient strings he couldn't alter. Probably he could be the conductor or spill his odds. Like the faggot of a god would spit its lava. He could puke his guts and watch time have the best