psychedelic isolation

Squiggles on electronic paper, turn today into tomorrow. My personal contingent shall march on through the smog. Crack the surface of the puddle; blow a little bubble. Mouth eats clickety, click, clicking fingers in nervous traction. Listen for the humming. Billie who? Little green thing that twists and balloons, then ingests quondam; can you assemble the puzzle? A universe of kaleidoscopic nebulums creating everything out of nothing? Does this exist? psychedelic isolation.