strange birds
what a sad story this is... as the technicolor clouds entranced the patient frogs, i felt your shape and heard you breathing. i reached up wanting to grab the last of the winter clouds. they're everywhere! aren't they? wafting across the skies. are they real? what the trees spoke was an inaudible, incomprehensible language. it can never be like it was when we were just two hands waving. yet then the four of us stopped next to the familiar landscape near to the placid nest of birds and asked ourselves wisely, "what does it mean to be hands?" she then said from the skies, "you aren't hands, silly, you're obviously a frog." they decided to put this strange thing into a box and mail it to a far away land, done with caring. hate, fear, and an acid-like taste remain. "but acid doesn't taste like anything!" therefore, they realized that their origins were in the tasteless world of water and mermaids. that's how you swim.
-dsys / kdl / swl
[circa nov. 2009]
-dsys / kdl / swl
[circa nov. 2009]