it's late. i'm tired.

the blasting breeze breathing through the window feels like my head

running though sheets of flying, swarming insects.

the air is alive. i can smell it.

 

the scent is of boat. am i on a boat?

the s.s. babushka sails as my fellow passengers articulate about non-sense.

who are these peculiar persons?

some of these, i've known all my life and keep them very close to my heart.

others are just insane. i keep them very close to my mind.

 

they are all very devious. they all hold futures that are too great for them to realize.

what about me? why are we together?

it seems that fate has brought them all together because of yours truly.

or maybe it's just an error in time, i can't remember. it's late.

 

as we run into a giant mountain, or cliff, or canyon, or hill, i feel very enthusiastic.

i want to be at the top of the biggest balloon in the sick and twisted planet that we call home.

they do not understand me.

or maybe, i can't comprehend them.

i am very complex and naturalism is very complicated.

 

it's not. i was lying.

i always seem to lie to myself,

yet, i never lie to them.

i wouldn't dare..

let's pretend we're the birth of a new species.

 

when we decide to go to a graveyard, monotony strikes over.

we go to graveyards all the time,

yet i stroll feverishly along the woods at midnight.

the moon, shining upon the gravestones, shifts back and forth to reveal

monsters on the ground, and reveals a hand popping out of the ground.

 

myself, fro, and cullen are all walking in the back,

trying to get the screams and sightings off our minds,

our captain leads us back to doris, who scoops us up in her bosom

and makes me realize of the danger that i had just escaped.

someone behind me puts her arm around me.

 

i think about the color of my future, sit, and ponder.

i had just forgot.

i can not whistle.