The Erotic Dream of Miley Cyrus 5

Then they reappeared, lying upon the floor of a dingy cell. A man in furs approached and they rose into the air. He grabbed them, one in each hand, and wielded them as a shield. Against the noise.
   He was in a state of anxiety. He was losing consciousness. He dropped to his knees, oppressed, and helpless with self reproach.
   He held himself aloof, as though he had been blotted out by a dark stain.
   We then saw him riding desperately on horseback, still clutching the shit encrusted bats. His eyes were fixed intently, upon what target I know not and fear that he was likewise ignorant of his cause. He rode at such great speed that the faecal shrouds were stripped from the bats, followed by their skins, which, together with those of the man and the horse, flailed about in the air behind them as they rode onward, twining and untwining into a form that resembelled an animated paper ball and finally unravelling to reveal a sphere of light.
   This was the catalytic fuel.
   From it was born a child of blood, who let out a most hideous cry. It was Alice, who flared up like a candle, although her face was wreathed in laughter.
   I shook her hand and she, in turn, looked me up and down. Her hands were cold as ice and her stomach palpitated as though she was ready to heave.
   From between her lips there slowly spun a helical web and as her mouth gaped I thought I saw a chasm filled with stars.
   She chomped at the web with her tiny teeth, breaking it down into irregular pieces, as golden blood flowed.
   She unfastened her robe and removed it, then lay upon the ground face up, as though she wished to sleep, but instead drew a hand gun.
   Undaunted, children ran in and formed a ring about her, then danced gaily in a circle as they sang.
   One stooped, in passing, and took a nipple into its mouth to suckle, then immediately collapsed, as though death itself had been siphoned from the teat.
   Things, however, were not what they seemed.
   I snatched the pistol from Alice and armed myself with it. I looked around cautiously and saw that some kind of stage had been erected before me. A car drew up and from it stepped a lady who approached me and folded a hand over mine, reassuringly.
   I was gripped by a comforting sense of magical nostalgia. The lady stood casually to one side and peeled an orange, then squeezed the juice onto her breast and spread it around with her fingers, painting a design upon her skin.
   When she had finished she whinnied with laughter and left, as all the props were lifted into the air and borne away, leaving a single cell, without windows or doors.
   A canonball dropped from above and shattered, revealing a skull, which rose gracefully into the sky, as light as a kite, trailing a mysterious long thread.
   I felt a touch and realised she was back, only this time she was almost twice her size, in fact, she was quite colossal.
   Her presence excited and ennervated me. I was a butterfly, basking in the warmth of her glow. I rose, sparkling, into the moonlight air.