Cloud Shadows And Paper Sails.

This isn't working! Never enough. Up our dose. No time to toast.

We shouldn't have done this. Man. Never should have taken you under my little wing.

The day we met she swore it'd be fate for me to fall.

Locked in her crow's nest with no ladder all that could be offered was the solace that the impact would involve liquid, but no telling how far to the floor. You caught my eye. Timelessly awaiting our predisposed future, undeniably reminiscant of the lost encounters of starting what was already set in motion.

A noticeable change in the light spectrum, all hues fail to saturate the ever squirming grass and us few coliding into the same thought every time we know to press on. Undeniably this situation creates the never impossibly removed association of imprinted land along with a distinct twinge of understanding that there will be no unseeing, only reprinting. Birds fly past the sun and we all scream for a lightning in the heat soaked day that never has its roar. We're stuck here. Never getting out of this alive. Swear to me you'll never leave, aside to blaise a trail thick with nostalgia given the pretense that we can remember.

Drift off into the scorching loss of light with tightly sealed eye slits. We may wake up here. One day we swear we'll wake up here. We have to wake up here. The next association is that we have all gone and we are surely not together. Catch up to the pack endlessly repeating a distance only tangibly noticable by distance and the constant inability to find our bodies.