seeing_things fyn gula "what are you doing?" he asked her when he found her looking up at the sky. "i'm seeing things." and so he looked up also and saw the cloud was shaped like an elephant and then changed in the wind so it was more like a willow tree. he smiled. he couldn't help it. "what?" she asked him, smiling with him. "i saw what you saw." she twirled about in the lazy grass as if there was paul van dyk at 1ooo watts. she fell hard on her ass and rolled all the way down the hill. he ran down to her, arms spread out, an airplane taking off. she jumped on his back and he carried her screaming. and the willow tree was now a lollipop, but they didn't see it. 010225 ... silentbob i had a dream before i woke up today, and in it you were actually happy, you actually were really enjoying my company. In my dream i probably would have had a shot with you, you probably would have been flattered to know how i felt, and you might even consider what i've been thinking about for so long 010225 ... kosher if you could see what i see hypocrite catastrophe if you could see what i see try some fucking civility 010330 ... -{::ephemeral_arcs::}- "I close my eyes and I keep seeing things rainbow waterfalls sunny liquid dreams..." from a distance he looked smooth. a well cultured utopia was the mirth on his lips, the dance in his eyes. from climbing barbwire when he was young. a thin white scar traced down his writs. he always hid it when he accepted the cash from salepeople. he didn't want people to think he had problems. the scar ran parallel to the length of his arm:: the way a serious suicidest cuts: one who wants death and not sympathy. too much blood to stop when gushing the length of the vein. vain. he hoped he wasn't. illusion ran the surface of his body. concealing twisting changing. he was the street light in the rain. from a distance. he looked beautiful. close. he looked ugly. closer. he looked wonderous. merged. he was really just a person. time was his waterfall. he stood under it and drank the spray that washed him. night didn't live under his eyelids. blossoms held his arms. thin and vagrant. he still walks. 020501 what's it to you? who go blather from