 |
||
|
current |
2005-03-11 - 7:35 a.m. The crows were talking to me today... speaking in tongues, in languages I couldnt understand. The air was like burnt toast, and the sky was blue milk. Pink flowers, petals, like the painting in my mothers living room. Sunrise through the half open window, my wet hair drying in the warmth. A grey sky today, maybe rain? Not sure. I swear my fucking eyes are going to explode if I have to input another one of these surveys for my mum. |
