psyki so there i was, alone, in the garden. it was quiet and dark. the leaves danced, in the glistening glist. mist? i didn't. the garden was so dark. it was so dark. crying, i polished my new black shoes. my feet shrank. it was terrible, and dark. they knew my name and chased me there. i ran as fast as i could, but TheEyesOfThemAll stared burning into mine. scroopled, i ran faster until i tripped. broke a finger. still they were after me. panic? not panic. it was a complete disaster. crashed hard into bricks. the shoes were scuffed. i scuffed them up on the bricks you see. still so dark. this garden i was in, it scared me. don't know, but it was real quiet. i decided to hide underneath a prickly bush there. 000221
sleepless I do everything occasionally.
Very little regularly,
And nothing constantly.
Sunday to Sunday means nothing,
When each day brings
A little change of routine.
what's it to you?
who go