The raindrops watch me furtively, avoiding my thirsty skin as they fall. The elevator will go down and down until the dead are dancing on you. The resin ballerina at the old wrought iron gate at the precipice of punishment resonates with me. Please commute my sentence or send me to the joy mines. Elegance and Grace get drunk off old rose at my great pearl table. In the yard with the whip cream colored unicorns, lightning licks little Lisa with bolts of genius like bolts of fabric to stretch over the folds of her cerebrum. Rainbows croon in every euphoric hue.
Miniature Moon 