¨this world is strange¨ i ask to myself, out loud. then, something replied: ¨i know innit?¨ , a disembodied voice? no, no… a… creature? yes…a rock. with a fine and dandy top hat, dressed finely- with a tie.

¨what?¨ i ask the gentlemen.
¨it is a strange world. innit?¨
¨yes, yes it is¨

and then, a strange man came around, he never spoke, and you could never see his skin- just a dark bottomless and cold pit of sorrow and despair, he loomed quietly, dressed in his stained and worn out suit- looking as if he had came right out of an office specifically in 1962… for some reason.

¨strange fellow¨ said the gentlemen from earlier

and The Voidman simply nodded in agreement, seemingly hinting he is aware of the awkward stillness that comes with his presence.

but then, the lights shut off.
and then i wake up, not at home, no, rather. in a field… right next to a river? no… on top of a sky scraper? yes! the air… its so thin but also… fresh,
Voidman greets me, simply starting at me with his cold, dead, eyes.
eyes of which you could only describe as from being from some autopsy or have being exposed to some great unimaginable trauma…. what happed to you? Mr Voidman?

i walk closer, but then… then i feel something odd, my skin… no, my muscles… are now yarn.
i am falling apart at the seams, as i get closer and closer i become more and more detangled, strings caught in the foliage- bones soon exposed… and before i knew it- i had detached my forearm… string from the bone. like one of those videos you see of that old guy with the fucking ribs… damn, i look tasty.

what an odd dream