(no subject)
it's a little like banging on a door with no one behind it or accidently breaking someone's favorite glass pipe. is it normal to melt into a puddle on the ground when the rain clouds hover and open their mouths? where is the framework that holds it together and why is it so wounded by the weather? it ran away and away and down and down and away, and down more and more and more. and every inhalation gets shorter and shorter and quickly now i need some morter cause if we wait we can not save it. and that would be awful, there's nothing left quite like it. if mommy and daddy ever found out they would fasten their necks with a rope and dive into the blue, blue sea. that's a beautiful song of irony for the sea, you see, is the only friend for me.