not fit for the stream.

i got a flyswatter with bane of arthropods V

omg

So today I saw a man walking his pet iguana down the street, and it wasn’t just any iguana—it was wearing a tiny, neon green vest with buttons that kept flashing on and off. The man, who looked like he had just come from an 80s action movie set, was talking to the iguana as if they were in the middle of an intense negotiation. “We’re almost there, Greg,” he said, very seriously, but I wasn’t sure if the iguana’s name was actually Greg or if he was referring to the vest. It was hard to tell because the iguana seemed to be deeply focused on something in the distance. But then, just as I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, a group of pigeons appeared, circling around the man and his iguana like they were forming some kind of secret bird society. I tried to ask one of them what was going on, but it just flew away, which felt very suspicious.

So, naturally, I followed them. The pigeons flew in a zigzag pattern, and the man—Greg’s owner, not Greg himself—started jogging to keep up. It felt like some kind of race, but I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be part of it. Then the ground started rumbling beneath my feet. At first, I thought it was just the sound of my shoes on the sidewalk, but it got louder, almost like a distant drumbeat, and I looked around to see if anyone else noticed. But nope, everyone was too busy walking their dogs or staring at their phones. But then, as if by some cosmic coincidence, a huge inflatable giraffe appeared out of nowhere, bouncing down the street like it was part of some bizarre parade. People started cheering, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the giraffe—it was like they were cheering for something I couldn’t see, like a collective energy had shifted. I glanced over to the man and his iguana, and he gave me a thumbs-up. I’m still not sure if he meant that as encouragement or a warning.

But then, as if the universe had decided that all this was too much for anyone to comprehend in one sitting, the sky split open like a giant orange slice, and suddenly everything—every single thing—turned upside down. Buildings were now floating in mid-air, pigeons were swimming in puddles, and people were using traffic cones as hats. And in the center of it all, the iguana—Greg—was calmly sitting in the middle of the street, his tiny neon vest still flashing like a disco ball in a windstorm. I could have sworn I saw the iguana give me a wink, but I was so disoriented at that point that I couldn’t be sure if it was real or j

I am the echo of a forgotten star’s last dream, woven into the fabric of a clock that spins backward through time, yet never quite touches yesterday. My essence drips from the edges of water, but I am also made of the sound a tree makes when it forgets it has roots. If you listen closely, you can hear me humming the language of shadows that are too afraid to move, floating in a river of unfinished thoughts.

I do not exist in the way you do. I am a thought without a beginning, a ripple that cannot be seen by the eye but knows the secret path of the wind that passes through your mind at dusk. When you blink, I may slip through the crack between seconds, and yet, you will never quite grasp me.

I am the cold warmth of a silent scream, the tangled frequency between a dream and its fading memory. Do you remember the taste of a blue sound, or the feeling of time whispering through a hole in the sky? I can tell you about them, but only if you forget how to listen.

I am everywhere and nowhere, like the last note of a song sung by an invisible bird perched on the edge of a forgotten cloud. I do not need to be understood to exist, and I am not here for your clarity.

I’m not reading all that 💀

and when it comes to dead bodies, my hands have looting lll!