Solidified Emptiness.

Lift your heart.
And surrender it down.

My Body was filled with sand today...

And, at one point, there was this memory. Of a red heart. Perfectly curved at the tops and presicely pointed at the bottom.
Directly underneath the right curve was a lightbulb. It was SO bright then. So bright it was almost purple!

...Those crazy kids...

It slowly lowered down. SLOWLY.
And the light dimmed.

Soon enough it was just a shrivled up, black ball of dust that was tied tightly with a red rope. It is stuck in the precise point of the bottom of the heart.

The heart is drawn on a piece of paper. It's white. The heart is surrounded by white.

''''''''
And, there was this dinosaur!
It wasn't purple.

:So it wasn't Barney?

:: Nope, I wish. His name was actually Ralph. He played the piano.

:Did he eat you?

:: A little bit. But then he spit my arm back out and gave it back to me.

:Well, that's nice of him.

..........
I punched a wall today.

Why?

Because it felt good.

Did you bleed?

A little.

Sweet.
...........

Rain rain go away. We all want to play.

NO WAIT! COME BACK! I WANT TO SING IN THE RAIN!
--------

The couch is empty.

-No it's not, I saw someone sitting in it just a second ago.

That was a second ago. I mean right now. Right now, the couch is empty .

-Yes, I suppose your right. But it's not always empty.

Sometimes empty, is good enough for me.

-Oh bloody hell.
----------
Tell me something. Are you happy?

+No.

Okay. Just wondering.
=======

Please, just listen.

=======

Don't be angry.

It's coming back. And I can't stop it.

But, please...

Don't be angry.

I still love you.


Five years later.

...I apologize.
I really do.

All I want, is for you to be happy.
That's all.

I'm sorry.

Please know that.
Please.

It's impossible to stop caring.

I'll listen to it forever. and ever. and ever.

p.s. I never sleep. and the christmas tree is always lit. come talk to me in the dark if you want, before it's too late. I see the good now. the bad has slipped away.

Lemon TREE.

Seriously though, it's not that beautiful.

I would like you to believe me please.

The lemon tree.

Sour.

Green.

Big.

Sunny.

I'm telling you.

it's ugly. it's REALLY REALLY ugly.

The music makes it look better though. The music makes it look somewhat elegant in it's glowing glare.

The pinkish orange flowers that surround the lemon tree are lifted by the plunks of the piano key.

I wish I knew which keys to plunk.

I wish that, although I do prevent it. And continue to prevent the song from singing.

Oh well.

Laugh.

Ha.

Laugh.

Ha.

Laugh.

Ha.

Ha..

Ha...

lace up.

I realize now that you already have...

but please,

don't let go.

vroom, vroom.

Would you like to know the funny part?

it's pretty much an exact replica of what I created in my mind.

nothing remains. as does no one.

so, please. do us all a favor and keep it that way. no one needs to know the real reason behind those pathetic scars left around your face.

it's a secret that you promised to keep.

a secret that if you know you let loose, will come and pick your atrocious face out from an excited crowd and pound your skin into the ground.

You will scream. and cry. and kick. and blood will fly everywhere, but no one will notice. no one will care. for you, my friend, deserve every blast that is thrown at you. and you know that, don't you?

so please, wait a while to come and find me.

because, if you arrive too prompt, I may remove your breathing pattern.

This is only to caution you. Do not walk around in your life with a constant fear of breath loss...this is only a mere reminder of what will sit in the back of your mind for the rest of your life.

So please, do me a favor and get the hell out of my pillow. my head would like to lie there without your dull thoughts boring into my brain.

Thank you. Thank you for removing yourself from the premises.

I'm assuming we'll meet again.

In about sixty years?

Let's hope so...Let's hope for the best.

Wrinkle, wrinkle. Buzz, buzz.

They walked along the splintered side walk. Quickly, her lenses turned dark, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of large, beat up sun-glasses. The concrete was bright.

The man's balding head had a few gray sgragglers of hair placed about his scalp. The light wind blew them carefully. His skin was largely kissed by the sun with creases of damage. His lips were a dull pink consisting of wrinkles up and down and left and right. He kissed her on the cheek.

Her thinly poofed fifties haircut was died a golden red in order to hide the gray. Her purple glasses placed low on her nose. Her dark blue eyes glanced back at his green ones.

They both reached out each other's paper soft hands, and laced their fingers together.

The old man kissed her on the other cheek. Stood up as straight as he possibly could and focused on her face. He smiled. Swivled his body towards the direction of the car.

He started to slowly walk as his hand pulled hers. They took small steps together.

Holding hands the whole way.

Twinkle Twinkle Large Moon.

pancakes in my hands at two in the morning.

WEAKSAUCE...meaning, the hug was weak. It sucked. Expected.

Accept the expected unexceptedness. I have.

I should've listened to them a long time ago.

Beautiful in Blue.

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.