Eki anakineki I was watching the moon. Its warty silver face was grinning, probably mocking me. Hanging from the night sky like a Christmas decoration it should know better. What does it have to shine for itself? I will kick it down and put something else in its place.
Eki anakineki doesn't really mean anything. If l replace the moon with it, then it will be the thing that fucks my nights over and it won't be better, just different. There is some sort of allegory here, but I can't quite philosophize it to realization. I'll just say it has something to do with radishes and spinning tops. Both things I like, so everyone is happy. And that's it for today. I consider my duty to the world and radishes and spitting toads done.
Bye, I said flying toward the moonshine and into where meanings go for a smoke break. The thick cloud of the pink cigarettes engulfed me and got into my flesh vessel through an orifice that was previously my navel. It felt like a genie coming home and now I was a stranger about to get evicted, for genies have zero tolerance for squatters. Even if all my life I had been living here.
My body then became animated and colored in the color a defecating squeezing face would be painted if smeared with beets, but a mild gust of air dispersed my gaseous form, and all I could see was something unpurple getting smaller and smaller until it popped like a pimple. Then, the voice of God said something like: "Ouch" and I got some minor relief.
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