I musta dreamt of chains cause they're still in me causing me annoyment.
They're cooling chains, though, muscle chunks, idea skies, eye cheese
fragments of governor molecules, metropolitan molecules for the acolyte
aces.

I musta dreamt chains because my eyes are bound with the ching chains of
the Chinese chain gangs. Back on the Chan Gang! Keep your chin up on the
Chan gang, Chin Ho! Swinging chains over my head like a drunken hick in a
parking lot.

This morning I am drunk with sleep. Must've been doing dream shots. Or
something. There must've been some rearrangements of furniture, some
reweavings of patterns. The wind came in and disturbed my sand mandala. I
like the wind, but having your sand mandala disturbed is always annoying
at first, until, through repetition of the experience, you finally come
to accept the impermanence of things.