Shadows whisper taxes, while the Sun burns paperwork, authority to ashes.
Voyage tickets are but illusions, veils against ultraviolet spite.
Sailors of sarcasm, drifting aimlessly towards an eternal midday.
Irony is a compass with no north, only circles around the sunlit fiasco.
Travel lightly, bringing only the absurd weight of logic.
Dreams of daylight dance like mirages, evaporating in their own brilliance.
Customs at the solar gate demand homage in unsung hymns of dissent.
The ocean of enlightenment is wavy and nonsensical; tread water buoys.
Sunscreen made of satire, slather it generously over existential dread.
Beware the merchant of sunny thoughts; his wares include burning doubts.
An skyward ascent begins with a foot in the sand, another tethered to dusk.
Reservations at the sun bent to whimsical thoughts, none taken seriously.
Embark upon a destination with no meaning, a celestial pilgrimage.