Clipping my toenails and eating them the next time I’m on stream, live laugh love

I want to play tekken with the reckless abandon of a bowel-emptying naked man in the middle of a busy intersection

My mind is an oscillator; I inject a small signal, barely peeking above the noise, into my mind and it bounces back and forth, back and forth off the three dimensional boundary conditions of my soul, recombining with itself until the idea is magnified, born anew

<nonsensically accurate inaccuracy> <laminarly flowing transition> <airing of a tekken related grievance> <winton (optional)>. My security through obscurity is now obviated