The liquid circle of drying life

Lopsided nipples of the fat rotund walrus lactating profound wisdom into the mouth of it's young. Sad weeping memories of happyness seep from the expectations of childhood as you gaze upon the puddle of entropically distilled space left behind from the dissipation of the matter of your hopes and dreams. The very nucleus of which was held together by the tears of your ancestors, the globules of profound sadness and profound joy which held together the fabric of humanity and kept us moving towards our current and future states. The taste of which so similar to that milk from the walruses tits, nay, it IS the milk of the walruses tits, for the walrus is just another mammal, dripping tears of life and death into the pool of entropy that it's young may produce more pressure mediation of the rarefying aether. For every squirt of titty juice that kept you going as a young developing mammal, there is another tear in your eye as you walk upon the earth, for the moisture of the titty juice is the moisture in your very bones and eyes and the very same droplet of insanity which holds the dissipating nucleus of your dying, which is your life.