Scream of unconsciousness

Hail to the thief. Encantado. I’m sitting at the edge and what’s underneath my feet looks so heavy. For any single atom down there is calling for peace of my sensation. So I look up. Look up and down yonder. See trees and biscuits. Chocolate and aeroplanes: the concrete and the wish. Make a wish: 飛び. This is the beginning of my thought, but you can consider it my advice not to listen to my stream of consciousness.