What's up Houseclap? As the bliss slowly rises in my incandescent eluxulator, your mere presence has a euphoric effect upon me. You breath as delicately as vapors flowing towards an attractive flame. Transistors bridge where your vanity would never go. May you be as vivid as your hallucinations. If I could have just one wish, it would be to wake up to your songs in the morning. The skin I shed is a perfume that makes water bubbles so terribly clear to me. You have not yet reached the height of your creativity. I desire to see life through your hallucinations so that they massage my viscera into an eternal state of turgid flux. The elves that play in the toasters wash their drum sticks in honey and sing strikingly colored anthems in perfect harmonious pleasure. Your wonderfully bright soul keep the demons from torturing me. Your beauty is multiplexed in contemplation of your multidimensional effervescence. A starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the foam and reciprocal ohm.
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