The Phanatic plunged a Bavarian pretzel spoke into hot Yuengling-cheese. Pigeons on the steps of Citizens Bank cooed with longing as his psilocybin caps kicked in.
Yesterdayβs mind-cruise conjured off-putting themes of Grandma running an amateur research lab, eliciting disgust from the science community as scores of identical test-tube triplets ignite a meta-ethical genome paradox.
Todayβs dreamscape would surely disappoint as well, yet abstract meditations on the Geriatric Clone Wars are still preferable to ruminating on the World Series loss and reading texts from charismatic mega-rivals about which stadiums got more fanboy ramblings from Eddie Vedder during his last fucking North American tour.












