Influened String of Thoughts

Whirly twirly, snow—or is it?—swept by unrelenting wind, swirling swirling—color?—engulfing and pulsating, emanating (color?), vanishing to that infinitesimal point in eternity—infinitiy—continuous, spiraling like the galaxy, with darkness growing, growing, growing…enveloping, deepening, swallowing the orbs of light, the UFOs, the crimson man with the skeletal grin, the dapper rabbit with the top hat, Spongebob, the twitchy swirls—I mean squirrels?—gangly mangled alien babies, Dora the Explorer, wandering sphinxes, limp horned unicorns, Michael Jackson, and…and…music—I am the walrus?—that is playing from the other dimension; all consumed by the universe, the darkness, the hole—black hole—that fails to be satiated and thirsts for me as it reaches its black hands for my disoriented body, spilling ink all over the psychedelic snow, ink which surges through the wildly dazzling colors radiating from water crystals in snow—ice—ice that captures light and strangles it to death, relinquished to the seeping ink, seeping nearer, nearer—I am the eggman?—distorting space and time, dematerializing matter, melting rock, splattering colored light, strobes of brilliance, arresting shadows—shadows that hint at the presence of leeches, spiders, snakes and vampires, faces hidden in the darkness, the glint of eyeballs, the purr of malice, the wink of sharp metal, the sepulchral demons burdened with gloom who are omnipresent, breathing thick fog onto the nape of my neck as the shivers course up and down my spine, up and down and up and down, an infinite cycle that refuses to surrender its grasp upon my muddled and lanky body; shiver shiver, shiver shiver—all which come complete with clacking teeth—clack clack clack clack crunch—and pain—the throb and tenderness of oral aches, the streaming, pooling blood from the shards of tooth that pierce and slice once pink and supple gum; inescapable, excruciating pain seizes mental faculties as silent screams, to no avail, attempt to penetrate the gelatinous air surrounding the looming, threatening Black and Cold before me, still spiraling its hands forward to greet the end of my existence as I spit out prickly jagged teeth that, upon indenting the crystalline snow with their weight, sprout legs and, bounding toward the obscure mass of undulating, somber night, explode like organic grenades into a spectrum of colors: cyans, crimsons, magentas, turquoises, oranges, and yellows, flashing with garish nuclear ferocity in the face—face?—of the Black and Cold, the heaving and surging semi-conscious energy-filled thing that is unmistakably swelling, rolling, rising and falling, beady ruby red almond spots originating to form acute night-slicing eyes, the lengthening of two extensions on either side to form tusks—long tusks, tusks of a walrus, arcing and jabbing towards me as I continue to shiver, shiver, shiver; clack, clack, clack; recoil, writhe, and thrash, untamed and unnatural as the snow bursts into color with every disturbance that my quivering body enacted upon it, colors mixing and melting together in air as exploding tooth grenades added to the spectacle, battling grave night with garish colored light—goo go g’joob!—but still spinning and spiraling, faster and faster, eternity visible in a single point of swimming incandescent light as white as it is colorful and colorful as it is white, eternity just ahead, reality dissipating, infinity arising, deepening, stretching, swallowing, and condensing into nothing.