Dementia pugilistica

right now as I type there is a 2800 lb. 8 armed demon sharing blows with a napalm spitting pterodactyl over a broken bottle of whiskey and a crashed car inside of me while she with one hand silently jabs an iron rod encrusted with long shards of heated glass and with the other hand throwing pulverized salt into the open wounds of my vital pulmonary organs which are cleverly disguised as a mad dog, all whilst in the death match of sobriety.