Sta.sh
His eyes sparkle in his eyes sparkle in his eyes sparkle in his eyes. Broken blue glass it's broken the fire blue broken again. The walls the walls. Why are the lines moving? They play like wonderful string instruments, such beautiful noises I can see. The colours are flying again, the colours and lines and noises and his eyes. But they're all gone now aren't they? All gone. I think they're gone anyway. Always anyway. Maybe the fire. Broken glass. The broken blue glass fire gone. But maybe. It's so short, so slow, so tedious, you know. The numbers are flying and the colours are singing again. It all makes more sense now but nobody understands, nobody believes me. I know what I'm saying don't I? She's leaving. I am. Was I even real to begin with? And what does it matter in my mind anyway. I miss the lines of course. It should snow. I think it should snow today. I don't know why, I just think it should. I'm invisible now aren't I? The bubbles the bubbles they're floating all around. All the strange things are so interesting you know. I'm not sure who you are but you do know. The bad things make me smile and laugh. The strange things are so perfect and wonderful. This is my mind. And the walls are falling now. His eyes don't sparkle anymore you know. I did that. I broke us.
And I meant it.
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