Splendidly horned, they prance at midnight, threading through moonlit aisles. Upon their tails, legends seep.
Once, the world trembled for a glittering hoof, paradox wrapped in cotton candy dust –
Behold, the saviors of cardboard savannas and paper mache sky.
Their blood, unicorn tears, distilled into absinthe dreams – elixirs for those who wish to dance with sighs.
Want sanctuary? Seek their rainbows. Want sense? Find not, (their tales are written on fogged glass).
Discover Further Irony Safari into HallucinationVisions claim they fly; shadows know they stall. Grounded in fables, they unknowingly break unicorn hearts instead.
A sanctuary for the surprised, their world is upside down, spinning like a top through syrupy kaleidoscopes.
What now if a grinding wheel? Compression into sparkly paperclips – unicorn OUCH.
The finale yet to start – Unicorn chronicles: chapter none, volume irreverent.
Cry not for the forgotten vinyl records, if unicorns could bleed – it would echo in tape hiss anyway.