(no subject)
Pretty things pretty things, all looked after of course because you take care of things that are pretty in case they get broken - though broken things can be pretty too, if you look at them a certain way, fractured light making the broken glass sparkle like diamonds, mixed with tiny dark rubies as if they appeared out of nowhere or grew, and they look a little dull until you look closer at the colour and the light, and get the angle just right and it shines, it shines... He doesn't understand, not really, why it is pretty, such things don't matter to the man who hears what is pretty in the air, or maybe though his hands and sensitive fingers as they brush over the harpstrings, yes, he feels it, not looks at it, his eyes might as well be shut or blinded by the shattered glass on the floor maybe is that where the rubies came from, fell from his eyes? He wouldn't notice if he was playing, I don't think so, don't think he feels maybe I shall make him, make him hearseefeellook at me laughing it sparkles the diamonds shatteredsharp flying in the air around almost feel them whisper past and the air shines in the light and he's watching now, waiting but it can't touch me - can't catch me - and the pieces are all red now diamonds grow up to be rubies QED?
No matter, I'll dance on the way home.
Got me running girl as fast as I can
And is it right, Butterfly,
They like you better framed and dried
(A room. Two bodies. Shattered glass. Blood.
The light shines through, and it is as if there's a carpet of jewels on the once-white floor.)
Got a pretty pretty garden
Pretty garden, yes
No matter, I'll dance on the way home.
Got me running girl as fast as I can
And is it right, Butterfly,
They like you better framed and dried
(A room. Two bodies. Shattered glass. Blood.
The light shines through, and it is as if there's a carpet of jewels on the once-white floor.)
Got a pretty pretty garden
Pretty garden, yes