the day is like quicksand, it starts with rain fall, monsoon as i drive through carnage highway eating my breath and listening to some one sing, 'Future Paradise' the haze from the rain, the heat and the fog, its a jungle out there as the road twists and turns and the silver machine travels through time, i'm safe in encapsulation, as the atmospheric conditions become treacherous, we follow the undulations, slip through the stream, in out artificial transportation and protection, the rivers of madness the trails of sadness, the bliss and the woe, another zen moment.
i take a reading, i get a fix, i'm surfing the highways and tripping the surface of things, ambient bass, harmony vibe, there's a reflection inside that comes from outside. all is one.
the silver corpusle follows the signs, and eventually the signs cease and i tune in on my radar, picking up alien frequency, i'm channelling some information i can't read, a minor interference pattern, i make some adjustments and fall through a little turbulance, eventually the end of the road is in sight, standstill. motions ceases, all the water in reverse centrafugal force, returns to its source and i am home.