I'm OK You're OK, I'm Not OK You're Not OK

Giants roam the Earth in a not-too-distant dystopian wasteland. Forgotten snails climb telephone poles to heaven because they're late for a meeting with motherfucking GOD. The ancient aliens who built pyramids fly away in spacecrafts shaped like tethered chainsaws. The sound is deafening. Water balloons hang from twisted telephone lines carrying messages of nothing to no-one. Their swollen bellies threaten to break and spill corrupt and untoward liquids into the upturned throats of pygmy anteaters. This is the future. This is the past. This is now. A sparrow a thousand years old lands on your shoulder. He has the face of a gargoyle and the voice of Rodney Dangerfield. Around it's neck is a glass bottle with a letter in it. Untrimmed fingernails fumble for the message inside. On torn parchment lifted by thieves from King Tut's barren tomb, a poem is scrawled. It goes something like this:- Clint is upset- Bob saved by live streams- panic attacks- fear of death- crisper technology- quintessential age- the sex dr