Nothing to preoccupy him when he was still.
... before I hit the ground. I remembered silent blackness.
We live in a world where exterior success and image is valued over who we are on the inside.
Sounds more like you’re writing a novel than living in the real world.
He’s gone and I’m floating in a river. Ripples of muddy water pass by my bed.
The girl was free as the water. The water was free as the sun. The waves were free to break the world beneath the sky.
A 50 zillion year-old woman wearing a tweed polka dot suit is walking toward me. I cannot believe the fashion industry would let this happen.
It was a tug of war between little blond twelve-year-old and deceiving alien-like mud.
It’s not a book I’m writing, it’s a life sentence.
Green grassThrough the panes of timeBright rays have notDelivered themselves uponThe untouched land