sometimes we all want someone to just pop bubbles with.A raw set of emotions set in your stomach. Ones you don't wish to encounter again.
Rupert has pink cheeks. If a key doesn't fit a lock for long enough, one may get frustrated. A rusty old dusty key that has no ambition to do anything but lay on the shelf. The lock has aspirations, and is trying to make something of himself. It's an entirely frustrating ideal. The key wouldn't work, again. Rupert trying every possible angle, finally ending with the harsh reality of throwing the key away.
A key that will be forgotten.
The vase of flowers stood soundly. It's energies drained from the grouping of colours and spirits placed within it. The vase couldn't keep up with the warm glow, and eventually died out. And became unnoticed.
A yawn, a yawn that passed silently, with a cat that stretches it's paws forward. it's back arched and it's movements slow. The difference between the sleepy and aware state of cat is almost incomprehensible.
Why must things fall out of place? why must they follow a particular order, in which one is left reeling and reeling through old films.
Old films with dust covered holders. Old films of old romances and cigarettes and things that mattered. Old films that people sat in the theater for and enjoyed for everything they were worth, as opposed to new thoughtless ones that put subliminal messages in your head and turn your ideals on beauty and love into something demented.
I don't want this sick feeling to sink in my stomach again.
Rupert has pink cheeks. If a key doesn't fit a lock for long enough, one may get frustrated. A rusty old dusty key that has no ambition to do anything but lay on the shelf. The lock has aspirations, and is trying to make something of himself. It's an entirely frustrating ideal. The key wouldn't work, again. Rupert trying every possible angle, finally ending with the harsh reality of throwing the key away.
A key that will be forgotten.
The vase of flowers stood soundly. It's energies drained from the grouping of colours and spirits placed within it. The vase couldn't keep up with the warm glow, and eventually died out. And became unnoticed.
A yawn, a yawn that passed silently, with a cat that stretches it's paws forward. it's back arched and it's movements slow. The difference between the sleepy and aware state of cat is almost incomprehensible.
Why must things fall out of place? why must they follow a particular order, in which one is left reeling and reeling through old films.
Old films with dust covered holders. Old films of old romances and cigarettes and things that mattered. Old films that people sat in the theater for and enjoyed for everything they were worth, as opposed to new thoughtless ones that put subliminal messages in your head and turn your ideals on beauty and love into something demented.
I don't want this sick feeling to sink in my stomach again.
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