(no subject)
alone in the house that i grew up in.
thought i'd go for a bike ride. no bike, long since mooved away with my sister. so i sroll though the lost forgotten garden of blooming plants potted with silk roses. the leaves have long since dried off. just stems and stems of stems sticking astray of techinolor terra cotta. the rocking bench sat around the left corner; sun-bleached and rotting but nicely arranged. somehow it's pleasant but slightly distorted. reminds me i'm changing, viewing lives of the ones who once lived there. and i'm here growing, again, once more beacause the place where i was is not the place i am going.
thought i'd go for a bike ride. no bike, long since mooved away with my sister. so i sroll though the lost forgotten garden of blooming plants potted with silk roses. the leaves have long since dried off. just stems and stems of stems sticking astray of techinolor terra cotta. the rocking bench sat around the left corner; sun-bleached and rotting but nicely arranged. somehow it's pleasant but slightly distorted. reminds me i'm changing, viewing lives of the ones who once lived there. and i'm here growing, again, once more beacause the place where i was is not the place i am going.