Boychris shoots junk in his dreams but Girlchris eats his sleep. How are the best friends gonna get outta this one ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
I blew out my brain with bottle rockets and threw the viscera in photo development chemicals. What emerged were a series of dreamscapes (?) about anarchy and best friends and circles and anticlimax and death-fueled insomnia.
"And I swear to fuck that we fight more systems when we're passed out on the floor."