Pablo Picasso farted on Salvador Dali

Sometimes I find myself dying in an abstract sense, becoming a constricted human being only travelling in pre-made ruts for wheels made to spin forward as I sit window-sill prone watching huge container ships leave bound for far away ports laden with goods meant to keep cities going. What the fuck are cities, holy shit just look at them they are insane little bubbles where more people than nature intended live in small spaces but carve out lives considered comfortable. They also are shields, far greater than a spade shaped one of metal from days of yore to protect from many things, strength in numbers reigns supreme so a single mind can let itself "go green" and be heated by the sun into a baked good of the highest quality, changed irreparably from its past as singular ingredients into a congealed mass, a body of it's nice to be back brother bear.