I had a lucid dream last night, it was quite abstract; I was dreaming the only hell that exists is here on Earth and one of its escape route was thru my room. Then, near the radiator, I've noticed an odd guardian of it, he looked like the easel transformed into some kind of stained tree-robot, and as we've spoken, his slats had started to bleed with a weird liquid light. Then I've slowly begun to turning aware that each of his numerous sticky chakras have been moulded from a various types of artistic paint. I woke up before the very end, but there was nothing except my old easle standing quietly in the corner, in the pile of empty cigarettes packs. So it was never just about colors I smiled to myself. Had a first smoke, readied my brushes...

I've been jabbed

My scrotum is really hard to shave with a razor because my easel is so wrinkly and loose.

1: "Man, there are not too many good lookin' chicks out tonight. I may have to settle for one of these easels."

i fucked her in her easel so hard that she needed a butt plug for the rest of her life