I'm hoping to get some kind of feedback, good or bad. Melancholy floats through my veins like a breath of dirty air.
Rivers run racing thoughts like drips of water-color paint.
A hundred tiny streams of warm gravy that jaunt through my arms like the twilight tides of the Pacific ocean. I can feel their hands moving slowly up my spine, rubbing their fingers through my hair, playing with my skin, teasing me. And then the static begins. It hums peacefully on the backdrop like children off on some distant playground. Then it gets louder.