Prompt: On those nights where the sweet poisons
Of loneliness running through the streets
I love to spoil myself.
One breathes duller and one has visions
And black spiders come out of the street holes
In the haze of red wine, snot and greed.
The tired hookers are leaning against the doors
Like rotten fruit, crushable and spoiled.
Music sounds from the ideal worlds.
The air is filled with syphilis boils,
And in the four-poster beds the lust has died,
The far too many ordered to the menu.
In these nights a longing grabs me
That comes like a fire to all the crap
And wander through the tangles of my soul.
But I'm not trying to catch myself
'Cause it sure is a crime
Not to be as broken as everyone else.
Dead people hang on some window crosses,
Who won't die for a year or two.
Life drains away down the gutter.
A salvation armist reads the ten commandments.
You are fed up and lie down to die.
But there is not enough time even to die.
A people in agony, and yet it lives
Under the mask dead like those fish
Which shine again just before they end.
And in the last few moves it floats
Once more over the swamp in all freshness
And shows you radian
Prompt: On those nights where the sweet poisons
Of loneliness running through the streets
I love to spoil myself.
One breathes duller and one has visions
And black spiders come out of the street holes
In the haze of red wine, snot and greed.
The tired hookers are leaning against the doors
Like rotten fruit, crushable and spoiled.
Music sounds from the ideal worlds.
The air is filled with syphilis boils,
And in the four-poster beds the lust has died,
The far too many ordered to the menu.
In these nights a longing grabs me
That comes like a fire to all the crap
And wander through the tangles of my soul.
But I'm not trying to catch myself
'Cause it sure is a crime
Not to be as broken as everyone else.
Dead people hang on some window crosses,
Who won't die for a year or two.
Life drains away down the gutter.
A salvation armist reads the ten commandments.
You are fed up and lie down to die.
But there is not enough time even to die.
A people in agony, and yet it lives
Under the mask dead like those fish
Which shine again just before they end.
And in the last few moves it floats
Once more over the swamp in all freshness
And shows you radian
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
On those nights where the sweet poisons
Of loneliness running through the streets
I love to spoil myself.
One breathes duller and one has visions
And black spiders come out of the street holes
In the haze of red wine, snot and greed.
The tired hookers are leaning against the doors
Like rotten fruit, crushable and spoiled.
Music sounds from the ideal worlds.
The air is filled with syphilis boils,
And in the four-poster beds the lust has died,
The far too many ordered to the menu.
In these nights a longing grabs me
That comes like a fire to all the crap
And wander through the tangles of my soul.
But I'm not trying to catch myself
'Cause it sure is a crime
Not to be as broken as everyone else.
Dead people hang on some window crosses,
Who won't die for a year or two.
Life drains away down the gutter.
A salvation armist reads the ten commandments.
You are fed up and lie down to die.
But there is not enough time even to die.
A people in agony, and yet it lives
Under the mask dead like those fish
Which shine again just before they end.
And in the last few moves it floats
Once more over the swamp in all freshness
And shows you radian
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
Artist
