The sky sits. It sits, it doesn't float, it doesn't stand, it doesn't look or dream or swear. It is there, ever present, ever grey, even when it purports to be blue or green or yellow or diamond. It lies, it lies like the ground lies. And the trees, they are the biggest liars of them all. All sideways, it's disgusting. I can't stand it.
Do you ever feel a little strange? Like someone's stirring you with a long spoon? They say it's made of silver but can silver make you feel this ill? Like gel. Just like gel, wobbling about on a big pot of goo. Make you feel so strange.
And it's never enough, what you say. You can never get the words right. There's always something missing, and oh so many ways you could put it, but when it comes down to it you're just not beautiful enough. They were all so beautiful, that's why they could do it. Words reveal your soul, they can't capture it but they can will give a glimpse, but only if there's one to see.
I never grew old but somehow I thought I did. I