I personally have not ever seen a morph. Things just are one thing and
another, or one thing, subsequently another....

And then another mother.

Eighty-five thousand elegies an hour. What is impacted in my skull? In
my skoul? What ghoul in my soul, feasting on my fucking rotting flesh?
My rotting ideals, my crusted over syrapy sugary dreams...there are
ghouls in there like brides in rotten wedding dresses, haunched over and
consuming all those old ideas. It's pretty disgusting in there, so best
keep the screen up, and the rosepetal generators and the rosewater
misting machiens

Laundry on a lonely Sunday morning
Raining on a lonely Sunday morning
Raining sun on a rainday morning
There's pools of sun out in the sun today

Screaming at Nick: You gotta stop buggin' me!!!! He keeps coming in here
wanting to be roughly pet. That fat bastard. meanwhile I'm trying to
keep my head in the tube and also bust into a new metaspace.

Spools of slackening rackened sun today, in the morning, out in the
west, down in the east, night folded all up, night put in its case like
a big black sail. Reefing night point by point until the storm of the
day is having its way and we're running under bare poles.

Running under bare polls. Running under bare pools. Anyway, the polls
show that those with poles would rather show their poles by the pools
under the polestar. Long as there will be a polestar this evening --
sheila mccuddy, she'll be the polestar by the pool boys!

The poolstar tonight will be Linda McCracken, and Shelly Eberly will be
starring in the jacuzzi. John McFung and Rita Piano. And Dale will be
photographing the nudie activities all evening.

Rags Ragland opened up my cranium for some uranium. Uranium and his
cranium. Head's got a half-life. half-nelson for a half-life on bob's
Sunday island. Gilligan's Idland -- Ginger's Egotropolis -- Professor's
Superegoland! Just down the road from Legoland, where everything is made
from l'ego, everything is made from L'eggs eggs!