Safe.
Billowing smoke reaches My lungs My veins.
They don't spasm. Desiccated already.
My ears filled with combustion.
My eyes blind to darkness.
This is the fire,
Built on purpose.
For no purpose.
Besides to singe the jet puffed desolate sugar.
It's speared.
Burning.
We have no need for this!
Sparks fly up.
Dancing with no mind.
To entertain the modern spoiled and deprived eye.
What meaning should i assign them?
Are they like the stars?
Slowly fading.
Eyes?
Slower fading.
My core caves in at the bending of the mind. In agony as I try to keep it all above the smoke.
i can't
I take a step backwards.
And I am in dirt
Sme
Current Residence: California Favourite genre of music: Opera and some types of rock MP3 player of choice: iPod Shell of choice: heh... abalone Favourite cartoon character: Stewie
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Radiohead
Favourite Writers
I really Kurt Vonnegut.. but i like so many other things i wouldnt consider him my favourite.
Favourite Games
duck duck goose
Tools of the Trade
Opposable thumbs and well developed vocal chords... ... and knives.... ... for cooking......
Other Interests
Opera, rock, singing opera, art, literature, health, veganism, vegan cooking and raw foods...