Taylor Singletary

Bakersfield, CA Work

And didn't the episodic vibrations flutter? The Triangular Dissids approach and retract, growing like spongy membranes of emotional spuncake sourcesauce ,8,1- the flitters, the jitters. Infinite-pixel-width grid-based reality modification devices and willful manipulation of mindsilence ingrained outgained headache tomato punch. ,8,1 Pull out the threads from your worn sweaters, envision a secluded place, that far off place inside your mind that you may have never seen but have always known is there--put yourself there, in the Waiting Room, and look out to the scary world through prismed windows, trembling. Further. Deeper. More towards the owl's eye, you encounter the marblic encasing of the previously exclusive baby glasses vision -- thought island tangents of insurmountable passages, language reengineering, spreading uniquely. Bobby Masters. The video game trajectory legend. His name in bubble letters ground to a metallic plate that-- oozing in bits and data--narratives and regress, each letter vibrantly moving in motion to the kinetic hifi. Slowly pulses a story about a story about a story that's been going on all along. The story's the same. ,8,1 Bobby Masters, always along for the ride. Bobby Masters. Closer. Penetrating closer. To as it is, what it is and other phrases. If you hate the words, but want to act like you love them.