fergusthepoet
I am a dinosaur. See me roar. Roar, roar, roar. Just because I am made of plastic and am wielded by the grubby hands of a seven-year-old boy does not make me any less scary.
All my fluorescent dreams were bathed in napalm orange juice, while the Archbishop of Canterbury married a turnip to a cheesecake to the delight of all concerned. The dreams floated on a sea of tomorrow’s ideas, wrapped up in seaweed and turpentine. The fluorescence of the dreams could not be extinguished.