A ball of light.
I see it a lot. It's this ribbon of light that reflects the colors of the rainbow. And, it contains nothing really except a wall. A THICK wall of bricks.
And, I find myself throwing punches at the wall while my legs try and leap over the gigantic ball of light. Nothing really seems to ever work.
Slowly, sometimes, one string begins slipping out of this ball. It loosens and swims through the rest of the flat ribbons of light. Allowing some sort of appearance and shape to what has been blocked for so long.
Truly though. My feet will walk through the corners of my brain into old images: those that are forgotten, those that are remembered, and just can't seem to untie anything.
So instead, my blue cave eyes freeze on the bare olive green wall in which I am confined to do nothing except...stare. So I do. I stare and wait for the anger to slip under the crack, and the caves to drown with water until the drought comes, and the caves paintings reappear. (and Sid the Sloth can lose Pinkie.)
The pen begins to race around the paper in rage trying to end it's inkie life, while the paper is in pain with each stroke of a swirl.
The speakers switch from loud to soft as the ghosts ears POP.
The sticky lollipop is glued to the desk. It's lonely I suppose.
In. Breathe. Splash.
The convulsing pain of a never ending shake of the body. That means it's physical, yes? You wouldn't imagine that to actually exist now would you?
The cave is far beneath the ground, and is kept secret to those who discovered it.
It contains thick strong walls and miles of a ceiling, but as you walk through it, the cracks grow wider and the rivers run faster and the mud grows softer.
There is one dirty shirt hidden under a rock,
can you find it?
I doubt it. Nobody can.
Well...maybe not NO BODY. I mean, I'm sure you could if you tried.
But most, don't even know the shirt exists.
And then there is the purple knife. Used and rusty.
The worm sleeps on it.
