broken_sprinkler klairchen Running through the seconds and minutes like they are broken sprinklers. Each second a drop of water. Each minute a sharpened line of all drops in single file. Watching all the lines sway back and forth in their strict manner faintly penetrates with a shallow significance. But, ah, listening to the water with its mocking monotone rhythm is deafening. Come close, then fade away, even closer, fade away. Seconds and minutes collecting into isolated pools of water that evaporate from harshness of atmosphere. There are other sprinklers in the distance, situated atop lush gardens, full of promise. Water drops of seconds chatter with flowers. Vibrant greeness fulfills the promise. There is one sprinkler in closest proximity, situated atop a slab of cold concrete, playing like a broken record. Water drops of seconds turn into hours and months as they pierce the pavement, superimposing dark grey upon grey, echoing the sound of deafness. Desolate greyness promises nothing. 000822 ... retard That was pretty stupid, broken sprinkler. 000823 ... reviuquier One of the better poems I've seen on blather. 000824 what's it to you? who go blather from