The Madman

Hello,

I'm back! Maybe.

This here is my first attempt at free association writing.

Begin -

Now! Go. 1, 2, 3. Keys of lime in the pie are perfect when Samson lost his hair and the locks that dread lord warcraft flying purple pigs and a pink pantaloon. Oh wait flamingos can fly too. The world in a baked form is the creep bunny of goose. Melancholy is the dirt drifter who drifts behind Jumper's Carrera while blowing horns with the bulls of yesteryear.

The ups and downs of a sine wave are like rolling hills or perhaps the setting in the treadmill was wrong. Running as free and fly as a wild bird in Montana would be the happy way to go. Even if I crash my own plane. This back of mine in large rolling giants with eyes made of cheese and the game never ends because the mouse always loses.

Peter and Valentine might never understand the value of having a brother. Perhaps they do. The lake is like a swarm of hyperspace where time loops into itself and the water moves like a surreal leaflet with words written on each drop. The many moods of man can maim the soul and then make it whole.

The wind from the sun blows my sails adrift while Arachnae watches from her slumber, waiting to pounce. Then I look upon her face and turn away. Which is harder? The look or the turn? Perhaps the lemon and the orange could grow on the same tree. Or perhaps, it was never meant to be.

I am alive. Life, the essence of humanity, drifts through the storms of white and the clouds of grey. As the blizzard envelops the land of elves, so turns a man in confusion with no knowledge of where to look. The gaze is as devastating as the turn, and he will lose either way. Then why, pray, does he try?

PS: References abound in the lines of madness written above. Discover them, if you can.

Snap! Thus returns the real world with its happiness and pain, joy and suffering. Here we must exist.

Disclaimer: This was written in exactly 10 minutes. I love you too.